Our Solemn Hour
by PEANUT v1.2
Summary: When Sam is suddenly struck with an unknown illness, everyone is thrown into a confused panic trying to figure out what it is. Nobody ever suspected that Sam's condition was linked to Dean and the Mark of Cain... Set in Season 10 after "Inside Man."
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first Supernatural story that isn't a oneshot, and I have no clue how long it's going to be. It takes place after 10x18 (Inside Man) and deviates from the cannon in some ways that will become obvious. Please leave me some reviews and enjoy! :)**

Our Solemn Hour

Chapter One: This One Takes the Cake

Sam didn't understand why he was doing this job and Dean wasn't. This job had "Dean" written all over it. Aside from the fact that it was a wedding reception and there were quite a few beautiful women, the wedding party also had pies instead of the traditional wedding cake. But then Sam saw the other side of it: he was stuck in a tuxedo on a hot summer's day in a building with no airflow and no air conditioning. Dean was probably laughing up a storm as he drove his car towards their next clue.

But Dean aside, Sam's other partner in the case was thrilled Dean wasn't there. Now, Charlie had a chance at the ladies.

"This is seriously _amazing,_" Charlie gushed softly to Sam. The two of them stood at the edge of a long room filled with circular dining tables, a banquet table, and a ton of people standing around, socializing and dancing. "Everyone here is freaking gorgeous. Sam, you want a chance at anyone before I go?"

"Charlie," Sam reminded her. "We're on a case."

"Oh, yeah, I know," she agreed. "But part of the gig _is _socializing. We're not gonna find the culprit otherwise."

Sam silently conceded, smiling briefly before it vanished again. "Okay, but be careful."

As Charlie walked off in her hot pink dress, Sam looked around the room. He didn't personally know the couple, or anyone at the party at all. He and Charlie were acting as writers who want to cover nice weddings in their next issue of a magazine. The real reason they were there was because five people connected to the bride died within the past five days. And with each day, the person who died got closer in relation to the bride. First, it was an acquaintance. Then a third cousin. Then an aunt. Fourth a sister, and lastly, the bride's mother. All signs pointed to the bride being the next victim.

He wondered, though, what was the monster? A vengeful spirit? A witch? Dean was on his way to burn the bones of one possibly-pissed dead relative, but it was up to Sam and Charlie to search the wedding for hex bags and keep the bride safe.

Sam casually peeked behind one of the drapes and saw nothing. Nobody at the wedding was acting suspicious, so he wondered if a hex bag was already in place or if a spirit was possessing anybody at all. It was frustrating not to have a monster identified at this stage of the game, but that's partly why they called Charlie in.

The heat of the day certainly wasn't helping anything. Sam wiped at his brow and pulled his hand away damp. It was so hot that his stomach was writhing inside him with discomfort. He was tempted to take off his jacket all together, and to loosen the bowtie that was suddenly suffocating him.

_Wait…_he thought. The sickness that was suddenly hitting him was coming on too fast to be natural.He's felt heatstroke before, and the symptoms came on more slowly than this. It all was hitting him at once, like a bulldozer. Something was wrong. Seriously, wrong. He leaned his side against the wall, wincing at the urge to fall down in a faint. "Charlie," he called, though his voice just came out in a whisper. Nobody was close enough to hear him or see his distress.

"Charlie…" A little more loudly, but still not nearly good enough.

_I must be the target, _he realized. _There's gotta be a hex bag in here somewhere that's on me…_ His first instinct was to get as far away from it as possible. He turned around for the exit, which was fortunately just a few feet behind him. He stumbled at it and opened the door, stepping out into the blinding light and into the parking lot. The rental car that he and Charlie drove there was sitting to his left.

He climbed in—no, _fell _in—to the driver's seat. He had the key and inserted it, mentally apologizing to Charlie as his lead foot fell onto the gas pedal. He swerved in reverse and then wrestled with the lever to put it into drive.

The only way to survive was to get as far away from that hex bag as possible. He swerved to avoid a bystander in the parking lot and headed into traffic, where he was only able to speed up to thirty before he was stuck behind another person. Ah, the horrors of the city…

He only made it three blocks away before his vision began to blacken. "D-damn it…" he swore, pulling over to the side of the road at a local business. Its address was posted right on the front. "C-Cas," he prayed in desperation. He knew that Cas avoided teleporting anywhere with his grace diminishing, but Cas was the only person who could save him now. He sent the address to him in his mind right before he lost consciousness.

*…*…*…*…*…*

"I'm telling you, Dean, Sam is gone," Charlie was saying into her end of the receiver. "I walked away for twenty minutes to check in with some bridesmaids and he's nowhere in sight."

Dean pulled over the impala, eyebrows furrowed deeply in anger. _C'mon, Sam, _he thought in aggravation. Sam knew better than to disappear on a case, especially when he was supposed to be protecting Charlie. This wasn't her first hunt, but she was really inexperienced compared to the Winchesters.

"And you tried his cell?"

"Like five times. And no, he's not in the bathroom."

"Alright, and what about the bride? Anything fishy with her yet? Any of the guests?"

"No, nothing," she said. "Dean…I wonder if what we're hunting knows we're after it."

Dean was already thinking of it, but he didn't want to freak Charlie out. He should have known that she'd be smart enough to figure it out. "Alright, you start asking the guests-"

"Wait, Dean?"

Just judging her tone, Dean could tell that whatever observation she had wasn't going to be a good one. "What?"

"Our rental car's gone. Sam must have taken it and driven off."

_Then maybe he _is _okay. _He was in deep trouble for leaving Charlie, but he must have been okay to drive off. Before Dean could speak any further, he heard his phone beeping. "Hang on, I got another call, I'll get back to you."

He looked down at the screen and with both anger and relief, he saw that it was Sam's name on the screen. He lifted it to his ear and barked out his frustrations. "Dammit Sam, what were you thinking, leaving Charlie alone at the reception? Where the Hell are you?"

"I'm not Sam," said the gravelly voice on the other end of the line. Dean's heart plummeted in his chest. "Sam's in trouble. Come back to the bunker now, Dean."

When Castiel hung up the phone, all of Dean's fears resurfaced. He began driving again and sped towards their home and his family.

*…*…*…*…*

When Sam came to, he was in his bedroom in the bunker with ice packs, chilled beers, and frozen vegetables on top of him. He slowly sat up, brushing off everything in a dazed confusion. Firstly, he had no clue how he got home, or why he was covered in a random assortment of frozen goods. When he looked to the foot of his bed, he was more surprised to see a friend sitting on the end. "Cas?"

Cas lifted his head to look at the brunet, his expression showing weariness. "Sam."

One look at Castiel's face and Sam knew. "Ugh, Cas, did I make you…" _Did I make you use up some of your remaining grace on me? _"Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for," the tired angel said. "What happened, Sam?"

"I'm…not sure…" Everything hit him so suddenly that he wasn't sure how to explain it. And what caused it was still a mystery. He did have a question of his own, though. "But…why am I covered in frozen vegetables?"

"You were extremely warm," Castiel said. "Dean said to cool you down with ice, but there wasn't enough, so I utilized other frozen goods. Does it feel like it worked?"

"No clue," Sam shrugged. He sat up, propping the pillows behind him as he pushed everything but one ice pack to the side. The spare was lifted to his forehead, which was still pounding. "But being conscious is good, so…"

Before the conversation could continue further, both Sam and Cas heard footsteps pounding down the hallway. Sam instinctively reached under his pillow, only managing to get his fingertips on the gun before the footsteps had a face.

There was Dean in the doorway, Charlie appearing behind him. As soon as Sam saw Dean's face, he lowered the icepack from his head and tried his best to look okay.

"Sam?" Dean said in that quiet, worried voice he used too often.

"Yeah," Sam automatically said. "I'm good."

"Really," Charlie said skeptically in Dean's stead. "Because you look like crap…"

Sam automatically ran a hand over his hair, realizing that as always, it had a mind of its own. He cleared his throat and glanced away, looking to Cas for some kind of assistance. However, what help could the angel offer?

"What happened with the wedding?" Sam asked both Charlie and Dean.

When Charlie looked away, Sam figured out the answer. He sighed, leaning his head against the backboard and shutting his eyes. So, the bride died. If he had been there, he could have stopped it somehow. He could have saved her…

"It's over, though," Charlie said softly. "It wasn't even something for us—just the new husband killing off relatives to fulfill some kind of long family feud that only he knew about."

"That's sick…"

"Yeah and unimportant right now," Dean said sternly. "That case's behind us, now we got a new one: tryin' to figure out what happened to you."

Sam looked out in front of him, seeing that three people were waiting for him to speak. As if he had any answers. "Look, it might not even be anything," Sam spoke. "I was standing there and suddenly it was like heatstroke. I was paranoid about a witch so I thought there was a hexbag with my name on it. I got in the car and left, but called Cas before I passed out."

"And that's it? Nobody suspicious at all?"

"No, nothing…And now that it's not a special case, I'm thinking I was just paranoid."

Sam held his breath, hoping that at least Dean would believe it. He didn't want anyone worrying over him, but when Dean worried, he became overbearing. Granted, whenever one of them was hurt or sick, it generally was serious

"Well…that's good, then," Charlie said in her optimistic way. "The case is solved and we're all okay. I for one, am _starving_, though. Didn't eat much at the reception. Sam, you want anything?"

"You know how to cook?"

"I'll wing it," she shrugged. "What do you want?"

Sam glanced down at the bag of frozen peas. "Here's some half-thawed vegetables for something." He gripped it lightly, lowering his hand and then lifting it to toss it to his friend in the doorway seven feet away. The bag didn't even make it two before it fell onto the ground. As soon as that happened, Sam realized his tactical error. Nobody was going to believe he was alright now…

"Sorry," he improvised. "Bag slipped out of my grasp."

Charlie simply smiled, walking forward and grabbing the bag off the floor. She looked at his brown eyes for a few moments before she raised her hand and brushed down some of his hair. "I'll bring something back for you. Get some rest, alright? Heatstroke's no fun…"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Thanks."

As the redhead walked out of the room, Sam understood what she was trying to do. She didn't believe it was heatstroke, but she was trying to believe it for Dean's sake. After all, Dean had enough on his plate with the Mark of Cain burdening him.

Though Cas said a while ago that he wanted to be the Winchester's third wheel, he seemed aware of the tension in the room. "I'll…assist," he said after a few moments. He rose and walked out towards the kitchen, leaving Sam in his worst-case scenario with Dean staring at him critically.

"Dean…" Sam started.

"You stay there," he ordered. "I'll be right back."

Sam blinked in confusion when Dean stepped out, but he was okay with it. When Dean was out of sight, Sam leaned his head back again and let out a sigh. Now he could really self-evaluate. He was hot, sweaty, trembling slightly and just…uneasy. When he lifted his hand to brush over his hair again, he noticed just how white his skin was. If he had to guess, that was his whole countenance.

When Dean returned, he had a glass of ice-water in his hand and a thermometer in the other. "Oh, come on, Dean…" Sam sighed at the thermometer. The water was fine, but he wasn't a child; he didn't need his temperature taken.

"Open up, Sammy," Dean ordered as he stopped by the front of the bed.

Seeing he wouldn't get anywhere protesting, Sam grasped the thermometer and stuck it in his mouth. In the minute of waiting, Dean gave him a once over about six times. Sam was going to tell him that he was fine, but the thermometer made it too hard to speak intelligibly. When it finally beeped, Sam took it out and looked at it first. He wasn't happy about it. For a brief moment, he considered lying to Dean. He thought about saying, "_Hey, it's not that bad…"_

But naturally, Dean stole the thermometer out of his hand.

"That's not good," he said lowly. "You're still at 102.7."

"Well I feel a lot better," Sam said. "So don't worry about it too much."

"Yeah," Dean said in a tone that obviously conveyed that he was going to worry no matter what Sam said. "You get some rest. Food'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah." Sam leaned back further into the pillows, shutting his eyes again. He heard Dean linger and then leave the room, but that was it. Within moments, Sam was fast asleep once more.


	2. Chapter 2: The Return

Chapter Two: The Return

"You know, you should really be in bed."

Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes at the voice that came from behind him. He was in his usual spot at the dining room table with his laptop in front of him and a possible case on his mind. For him, the sickness was just a dull nagging in the back of his mind, not in the forefront like it was in Dean's head. "I'm fine, Dean," Sam insisted calmly.

"Really? 'Cause it was just yesterday that you-"

"That's the wonderful thing about heatstroke," he replied. "Once you're cooled and rehydrated, you're good as new."

And actually, that was the truth of the matter. After sleeping off the sickness yesterday night, drinking ten glasses of ice water and staying cool, Sam felt almost completely better. There was still a feeling in his stomach that this was more than heatstroke, but he'd research that somewhere private, so Dean wouldn't worry about him anymore than he already was.

"And anyway, I've got a case," Sam said after a few moments. "Nearby, too. A college senior's claiming that her roommate has black eyes and heals from wounds way too quickly."

"So a demon," Dean surmised.

"Yeah, sounds like it." Sam stood up, setting a hand on his chair as he turned to face his older brother. "Let's get going."

"Nope. You're on lockdown."

This time, Sam did roll his eyes. "C'mon Dean."

"No, I'm serious," he said. "I can tell just by looking at you that you're not at a hundred percent. So I'll go take care of this case. You give me the information and keep researching."

Sam stared at Dean for a few moments, decided whether to be defiant or give in. He knew Dean's mindset: if Sam was with him, Dean would spend more time worrying about him and be more likely to get hurt by the demon. Sam going with him, even if he was alright, would just slow him down. "Fine," Sam said in resignation. He grabbed a sheet of paper, jotting down the address for the college, the name of the demon student and her unfortunate roommate. He handed it off to Dean, though he didn't release it until he met Dean's eyes. "But I'm not staying her for the next case." And he meant that; there was no reason for him to stay here today, so next time, he was definitely coming along. Hunting alone was way too dangerous, even for an expert hunter like Dean.

"Yeah, yeah, just shut up and do your research," Dean said as he snatched the paper away. With his free hand, he pat Sammy on the shoulder a few times before he walked out, promising to call him on the road. As soon as Dean was out of sight, Sam turned back to his laptop and continued research. If Dean was going out alone, Sam was going to be sure to gather all the information he could to help him out there.

*…*…*…*…*…*

Dean realized long ago that the word "close" was relative. To most people, driving four hours to a college would be a good distance. But not for the Winchesters. For them, anything within ten hours was an unexpected treat. The closeness of the college was the only reason why Dean was comfortable letting Sam alone; he'd be back within twenty-four hours. Sam could stay alive that long in their completely secure home.

He knew that Sam was putting on a brave face, but Dean could tell that _something _was off. He and Sam had been open with each other lately, what with the Mark of Cain in play. Things had been alright lately; Dean hadn't had any more massacres or any desire to chop anyone's head off. Cain told him that he would kill Crowley, then Castiel, and then, finally, Sam. The fact that Dean had no urge to kill Crowley assured him that he was in good shape.

Except…

Every once in a while, when he thought about the Mark too long or too deeply, he felt the desire to grasp it in his hand. He wanted to be powerful. He wanted (selfishly) to give in to the Mark and just follow its will. But then the thought of Sam and Cas and even Crowley brought him back to his senses. He wasn't going to kill any of them. Maybe Crowley someday if he ever went too far off the deep end, but never Sam or Cas. But even with those thoughts and determined spirit, he couldn't make the rock in his stomach disappear. Someday, the Mark would consume him, just like it did Cain. Now it was just a matter of making sure that he didn't lose control during Sam's lifetime.

That made him realize something else too: Sam was going to die before him, since Dean was sort of immortal with the Mark. He'd have to live a life without Sammy. And it was selfish to want to keep him with him forever so he would never be alone, but those were his feelings. He had a feeling that Sam returned the sentiment, though Sam acted more rational than Dean often did in the perspective of losing the other. He'd never forget what happened with Metatron that night—how Sam confessed he lied about ever letting Dean die. And Dean knew that he was honest about that; Sam desperately tried to save him when he was a demon and he was still fighting so hard. If Metatron hadn't forced them into such a corner in the first place…

Metatron—now there was a guy he wouldn't mind killing with the first blade.

Driving was so natural that Dean often lost track of his speed, but he was alarmed when he looked down and saw he was going eighty. Last thing he needed was to be pulled over by the police. The ringing of his cell phone in his pocket also helped bring him back to reality and the task at hand. The job—he was on his way to a job, and he had promised to call Sam on the road. Looked like his younger brother beat him to the punch. "You got any more info for me, Sam?"

"_Our potential demon was just suspended for yelling at her professor in class and threatening him. She's kicked off campus for a few days…"_

"You got a home address?"

"_Yeah, but it's in Pennsylvania. I doubt she's going back there for a two day suspension."_

"That's all kids get these days? Jeez, people get off easy."

When Sam didn't say anything, Dean continued. "Alright, are there relatives in the area that she'd stay with? Friends off campus?"

"_Relatives, no. Friends, maybe. I'm looking…"_

Dean caught something then—Sam trailing off in the middle of a sentence, gradually getting softer and quieter. "Sammy? You good?"

The voice that responded to him was thinner than usual, more fragile. "_Yeah. Yeah, I'm…"_

"Sammy?"

On the other end of the line, Dean could practically feel the tension. "_Crap," _Sam murmured. "_Dean, I'm not…_" Sam swore into the speaker, and with that one word, Dean knew what was happening. Whatever Sam experienced the other day was coming back.

Dean spun the car around, doing a U-turn and surely startling the car that had been behind him before. He raced down the other lane, heading back towards the bunker. "Hold on, Sammy, I'm comin' back, you hear me?" Nothing. "**Sam**!"

*…*…*…*…*…*

Dean had plenty of time in his two-hour return trip to make up horror stories about Sam's state. He imagined him just passed out on the floor, overheating and burning to a crisp without anyone to help him. He imagined him throwing up in the bathroom because whatever this was, it affected his stomach before. He imagined him…dead.

The last thing that Dean imagined was that Sam would be totally plastered in the dining room.

"Sam!" Dean called as soon as he was through the front door. He ran in, down the stairs and to the room where Sam was when he left him. He was relieved to see him upright, but the whiskey bottle on the table, things weren't good. He approached Sam and set a hand on his shoulder, spinning his brother's chair around to get a good look at him. Aside from the damp hair, Sam's eyes were reddened and unfocused."Hey. You okay?"

"I'm spectacular…" an obviously drunken Sam murmured.

"Oh great," Dean grumbled in annoyance. With Sam this drunk, there was no way he'd get good answers to his questions. And he wouldn't be able to tell what the alcohol was causing and what the other thing was. "Can you manage to tell me _anything _important right now?"

"I'm _so _glad I grabbed the whiskey," Sam answered, slurring every word and briefly letting his head drift to the left. "I feel so much better now."

"Better how?"

"Well," Sam swallowed. "When I started feeling sick again, I was terrified that I was gonna die. But now I'm so drunk I don't feel afraid anymore…"

"Right…" Dean stood upright, glancing to the side at the bookshelves. There were lists of curses cast by witches; maybe one of the books held the key to Sam's illness. But Sam…Well, he seemed alright other than the drunkenness. He'd wake up regretting this, but that was still better than any of the scenarios Dean had been imagining in his head. "Alright Sasquatch, here's what you're gonna do. Hey, Sammy, you listening to me?" he asked when his brother's eyes drifted away from him. As soon as they were focused, he continued. "You're gonna lie down on your side on that couch right over there."

"You're bossy…"

"And you're stupid," Dean countered. "You realize this episode's gonna make it harder to diagnose you, right?"

"I _needed _a drink…"

"I'm sure you did," Dean said, though his tone was obviously skeptical. "Now you go lay down, start sleeping this off and when you wake up, we're gonna have a serious talk about abusing your drinking privileges."

"You jerk…"

"Yeah," Dean smiled slightly, but then frowned. He couldn't bring himself to call Sam his old nickname, though, not now. He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him out of his chair, dragging him over to the couch and lying him down on his side. He made sure Sam stayed in that position; didn't want him choking on any vomit in his sleep. As soon as he was satisfied that Sam was staying still, Dean hit the books.

At his request, Cas showed up within the hour. He had called him in the middle of his drive home to see if Cas was any closer to the bunker than Dean. Even though he wasn't, Dean still requested Cas's presence, just because he needed help to track down whatever was Causing Sam's illness.

As soon as Castiel was caught up on everything that occurred, he just stared at Sam lying on the couch that was too small for him. "I don't understand," he said aloud.

"What?"

"Sam doesn't like to be intoxicated. I only recall instances of drunkenness when he's in deep despair…"

"What's your point, Cas?"

"Something very severe must have triggered this."

Dean was too unnerved with that analysis to properly respond. "You gonna stare at him or help me sift through the books?" he snapped at Cas. When Castiel turned around and stared at him, Dean realized that once again, he took out his stress on a friend. "Sorry. Cas, will you help me?"

"Of course." Castiel walked over to the bookshelf and the two began their search for a cure anew.

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Author's note: Not too much happened this chapter, but the next one will have some huge plot twists, so stay tuned!**

**Also, I just have to say that I NEVER expected such a huge response to the story. I thought I would get no reviews and maybe 2 follows, so you guys blew my mind with your excitement. Please continue to leave comments—It really helps inspire me to write more! I don't have much time in my schedule but I'll try and get chapters out as quickly as possible. **

**Thanks guys,**

**Peanut**


	3. Chapter 3: The Fear of Abel

Chapter Three: The Fear of Abel

It was 3:27 in the morning and Sam believed that he finished throwing up whatever food and drink lingered in his stomach from the previous day. Standing up from the toilet, he looked in the mirror and stared at his reflection. He got used to seeing himself sick when he was completing the trials to shut the doors of Hell, but that didn't mean he was unfazed by his appearance. His hair was both ruffled and wet with sweat, his eyes bloodshot and his skin ghostly white. He had this twitching under his left eye that wouldn't stop and it annoyed the crap out of him. Of course, he knew that twitching was nothing compared to the scolding he was going to get from Dean.

Dean was already all over his case, not being extremely merciful even with Sam running back and forth from the dining room to the bathroom four times. Even with his tired mind, Sam knew that Dean was being abrasive because he was worried for him. Sam had to admit (to himself) that he was worried too. Something triggered this sickness, and it was strong enough to penetrate the walls of the bunker. He must have been cursed, somewhere, somehow.

Sam rinsed out his mouth and combed his hair back, composing himself the best he could before he headed back out to the dining room where Dean and Cas were pouring over books. Castiel stopped completely when Sam returned, but Dean only spoke with his book in his face.

"You composed enough to tell us what happened, or are you gonna have to make another run?"

Sam collapsed onto the couch, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back. "There's not much _to _tell," he mumbled.

"Louder, Sammy."

"There's not much to tell," he repeated. He opened his eyes and saw now that he had Dean's full and undivided attention. "I started feeling sick again a few minutes before I called you about the case. And then mid-conversation with you, I realized I wasn't alright and I dropped the phone."

"Alright, and then what?" Dean prodded.

Sam glanced over to the side in embarrassment. "Then I ran to the kitchen, grabbed the strongest whiskey I could, and downed it in record time."

"Why?" Castiel inquired.

"It's strange…" Sam said, looking at Castiel, whose gaze was less intimidating than Dean's. "I just felt this…sheer terror. I never felt anything like it before, not even…in Hell." He didn't like mentioning the place, but he thankfully didn't have to linger on the topic long. "And I just thought to myself: there's only one way to dull these emotions, and that was to get drunk."

When Sam did look over at Dean, he instantly regretted it. It was obvious that Dean was trying to keep calm and think objectively, but with this hitting so close to home, it was tough. And once more, neither of them had a clue what was going on.

"It sounds like something we did in a case a while back…" Sam continued. "…But I can't think clearly. I'm still pretty buzzed."

"I think I know what you're referring to." Dean stood up, pacing a few steps just to get his thoughts out. "Do you remember that case where I was terrified and the terror kept getting worse by the minute? That…ghost sickness."

"That's it." Sam snapped his fingers, feeling relieved for the first time in das that they actually had a handle on something. "I thought of it because the only way you could cope with it was if you were drunk."

"I wasn't drunk!" Dean protested, appalled. "I was just slightly buzzed…"

"Yeah, okay, and that's why you told the deputy that he was awesome on the way out of the station…"

"Well he was a pretty decent guy…"

"Are you certain that it's ghost sickness?" Castiel said. Both Sam and Dean looked over at him, having briefly lost him in the midst of their brotherly banter. The moment Cas brought up doubts, Sam felt his stomach drop again. "What, you don't think so?"

"Actually…" Dean began. "He's got a point. When I was infected, I didn't have gaps of non-terror. It was just sheer panic all the time. Hallucinations, too. You have any of those?"

"No…" _Well, there goes ghost sickness, then. _Sam fought the urge to sigh in frustration. Whatever this was, it was severely unpleasant. Whenever it struck him, it felt like his life was in extreme danger, but he couldn't see any danger nearby.

"I'm sure it's something we've seen before, somewhere," Dean was saying in the midst of Sam's despair. "We've dealt with a bunch of different things. Curses, for one. I'm wondering about that wedding case, and if there really was a witch involved. It's possible she put a curse on you."

Sam suddenly had a flash of inspiration for this thread of logic. "Why is it a 'she'?"

"Because the majority of witches we've dealt with are girls? I dunno, force of habit, Sam. _And _not really the thing to be concerned with right now."

"Yes it is." Sam stood up, slowly dragging his feet to the table. He sat down and opened up his laptop, beginning to run a search. "That groom who killed the bride's family could have been a witch. It's possible that he didn't use hitmen to kill the targets; he used spells."

"Alright, let's say that is the case. How'd he get his sights set on you?"

"I don't know, but right now, that's the best lead we have."

"I'm not so certain," Castiel said. As usual, Cas was impossible to read. Doing a double-take to Dean, Sam knew that he wasn't the only one who was having a hard time trying to figure out what he was referring to.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Dean urged, sitting down at a seat at the table as he turned the chair to face the angel.

"What were you doing when it all happened?"

"I told you, Cas," Sam started. "I was researching-"

"No, Sam," Cas disagreed. "Not you. Dean, what were _you _doing?"

"Me?" Dean blinked. Again, the two brothers shared a confused look. "I was just driving to our next case. A demonic college girl. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Hopefully nothing. Can I ask you another question?"

_You just did…_ Sam thought in Dean's stead. He and Cas went through that kind of game before, but now wasn't the time for sentimentality or joking. Man, his head was killing him from that hangover…If Cas was trying to build a case, it really wasn't obvious what he was going for.

"Go ahead," Dean encouraged.

"What were you thinking about? What were you feeling?"

At first, Sam thought that Dean wasn't responding because he didn't remember. After all, there was always plenty for them to think about and dwell on. It could have been the case he was going to work on, his worry for Sam's state, Charlie off doing research connecting to Oz, or…

Sam suddenly realized that he wasn't breathing. Not the way that he should have been. It felt like somebody just put a pile of bricks on his chest and thrust him into a blazing hot sauna. His eyes began to bulge as he lifted a hand to his chest, as if grasping at his heart would somehow take away the pain he was feeling and slow it down to a reasonable pace. If that worked, he couldn't tell; his whole world began to blur and dull.

He wanted a whiskey _so _bad.

"Sam? Sammy!" Dean's voice shouted through the haze. Sam gasped out a breath, suddenly having another realization: he was no longer on the couch. He was curled up on the floor, almost entirely balled up and looking at the knees of his older brother. Dean knelt in front of him, with his hand on Sam's shoulder and the other on the floor as he leaned over him for balance.

"Cas? Can you…" Dean began to plead.

"I cannot cure this," Castiel said. "I know what it is…"

"What?" he asked in fear.

"I'll explain once Sam is well. He appears to be recovering."

That was true, but recovering didn't mean that he was much better. But Sam saw how scared Dean was and how sad Castiel looked, and that was motivation enough to try and come out of whatever this was. He was so scared two minutes ago, but now he felt like his life was safe once more. He set a hand on the ground and slowly began to prop himself up, only making it because Dean helped move the weight.

"Sam?" Dean checked, resting both his hands on Sam's shoulders as he ducked his head to look into Sam's eyes.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I think I'm okay." He could hardly catch his breath, he was freezing cold and drenched with sweat, even though he had only been in that state for a minute, tops. Or so he thought. "Sorry, lost it for a minute."

Dean arched a brow, grasping Sam's shoulders more tightly. "Try ten."

Sam lifted his head, meeting and matching Dean's wide eyes. He was seriously curled up on the ground in this state for ten minutes? If he was more with it, he probably would have felt terribly embarrassed. At the same time, he didn't have any control over this, so what could he have to feel responsible for?

"Cas." Sam wiped some wet hair out of his face. "Did I hear you say you know what this is?"

"Yes…"

When Castiel hesitated, Dean turned his body around to look at their friend. He even moved himself to sit right beside Sam, leaning his back against the couch as he looked up. Sam was just as impatient as Dean, but judging by Cas's stalling, his diagnosis wasn't going to be good.

"It's called the 'Fear of Abel,'" he said. "And whenever you long for the blade, Dean, it throws Sam into a state of panic."

"I don't understand…" Sam said slowly. "The Fear of Abel? How haven't we heard of it before with all the research we've done?"

"Accounts are hardly concerned with what Abel experienced. His story was short lived and ended, while Cain's continued. And thus Cain was the article of speculation. But I was there. I know there was more to the situation than your lore and the Bible tells."

Castiel proceeded to tell the story of Cain and Abel. How Cain tried to confront Abel about his conversations with Lucifer several times and how he constantly pleaded with him to stop being so foolish. Abel always ignored him, and thus Cain was forced to make a deal with Lucifer to save his brother's soul.

Contrary to popular belief, Abel knew that Cain was going to kill him. Abel had one final conversation with Lucifer, where Lucifer revealed the scheming he had done with Cain and how Cain was going to slaughter him to send his soul to heaven. Abel sobbed and pleaded with Lucifer to save him from his brother, but Lucifer wouldn't. He forced Cain into his service with a contract, while Abel was bound only by love. Love, which flickered and faded over time. No, Lucifer wanted a more objective slave.

And so Abel ran. He ran all across his little world and tried to hide, but Cain always found him before long. He constantly came close to killing him, but Abel continued running, and every time he did, his terror for his life and terror of his brother increased. One day, when he couldn't take the fear any longer, Abel stood and let Cain cut him down.

Dean was extremely shaken by the story, to say the least. Cain warned him that he was living his life in reverse, and that he would someday kill Sam. And now Sam was showing signs of falling into that destiny. But he hadn't said anything to either Sam or Cas about Cain's words or his destiny. Cas figured it out all on his own, and now, Sam would too.

"Dean?" Sam checked in concern.

Of course Sam was concerned about him when he should have worried about himself. "I ain't killing you," Dean proclaimed without looking over at his younger brother.

"No, yeah, of course not," Sam agreed. "I'm not worried about that."

"Cas, how do we get rid of this 'Fear of Abel' crap?" Dean asked.

Castiel frowned grimly. "There's only one way out."

Neither Sam nor Dean had to ask what that one way was. It fit right into the story. Abel was only to escape his fear when he accepted death. And like Dean said, that certainly wasn't happening.

"Alright then." Dean ran a hand over his face. "I just won't think about it anymore. Can't be that hard."

Once more, Castiel's silence was a testimonial to his thoughts. He clearly didn't believe that it was possible for Dean to stop thinking about the first blade or to desire it.

"I feel I should make you aware of another detail," Cas said after a few moments. "Should Dean kill you, Sam, not only are you relieved of the fear, but the Mark of Cain will also be removed."

Sam sat up straighter. "Are you serious?"

"What's that matter?!" Dean snapped, staring at his brother in horror and appall. "You ain't dyin', are we clear?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it," Sam said in an uncommitted way.

"And there's something else," Dean thought aloud. He looked up at Castiel once more, rising to his feet so he'd be on level with his friend. "I'm assuming that in order for that whole plan to go down, I'd need the first blade. So all you need to do is keep it away from me and everything'll be just fine."

"About that…"

Dean paled as soon as Cas started that sentence. If he would have had less on his mind, he would have found it funny how Cas was picking up more human lingo and phrases. Now certainly wan't the time to acknowledge any of that. "What?"

Castiel took a deep breath. "Whenever you start to think too deeply about the blade, the blade senses you calling out to it. And thus it continues drawing nearer and nearer to you until it's in your grasp."

Dean didn't look at Sam, though he felt Sam's concerned gaze resting on him. Whatever Sam was thinking, he was keeping it to himself. Dean, on the other hand, was thinking of every possible loophole in the argument, as if that would destroy the truth of what Cas was telling them. "I still don't get it," he said for about the tenth time since the start of the conversation. "Cain put as much distance between himself and the blade as he could, and the blade never came to him. Why was that?"

"Because the blade's work was already done," Castiel answered easily. "He received it for the purpose of killing his brother. Once he did that, he was able to resist it more. You, Dean, are feeling and thinking so much about the blade because your task is not yet completed. Until you do kill Sam-"

"I'm _not _killing Sam!"

"—Until that point," Cas continued, "You will be unable to completely stop thinking about the blade. One day, it will appear in your hand, and you'll be forced to fulfill the blade's purpose."

"Cas," Sam interrupted in a quiet voice. It was a tone that said "_Enough—you've made your point._"

Upon seeing Dean's distraught face, Castiel began to backtrack. "I apologize for being so grave," he said. "Dean, you've done remarkable things. You and Sam have both defeated Lucifer and stood against God. But there are some things that cannot be overcome. Delay, yes, but there truly is only one way for this story to end."

In those horrifying moments, Castiel's words aligned with Cain's.

"_My story began when I killed my brother and that's where your story will inevitably end." _

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Author: Reviews are appreciated, as always. They motivate me to write, so if you want chapters to come more quickly, giving reviews is one way to accomplish that. ;) **


	4. Chapter 4: Witch Hunt

Chapter Four: Witch Hunt

One thing that always irritated Dean was how Sam was unwilling to decorate his bedroom at all in the bunker. It was ridiculous to Dean and Sam knew it, but he had his reasons. Growing up, he didn't have a room to decorate. It was just motel rooms and sometimes Bobby's house where they settled down. Even after he moved in with Jessica, he didn't do any decorating; she did. Sam truly didn't know how to settle into a building and call it home.

In his mind, he had a different home: The impala. That was where he and Dean spent most of their time. It was where they stared out the windows for hours and hours and even days before arriving at towns where they stopped in, briefly got settled, and then moved on. The impala was where he spent most of his life, and so that was his home.

Because of that, it was comforting to Sam to be in the sanctity of his home. It was just like old times; he was riding shotgun and Dean was driving. The music was blaring and the windows were rolled down on the bright and sunny day. Unfortunately, something was different: There was an unspoken tension between the two of them.

Dean and Sam were on their way to further inspect the wedding case. There was a heated discussion with Cas back at the bunker that neither of them wanted to remember. It happened almost immediately after Cas's commentary on the Fear of Abel, and every single word was still stuck in Sam's mind.

"_Look, Cas, I get it," Sam had said back then. "You think whatever I'm experiencing has some kind of connection to the Mark and Abel. But to be honest, it sounds really preposterous to me."_

"_Preposterous how?"_

"_First of all, with the story of Abel, I think it was just typical fear. Who wouldn't be afraid of their brother killing them? I don't think that a curse exists…"_

_Dean looked hopeful. Of course he didn't want to believe that a curse existed either, and if Sam wasn't believing it, then he had reason to doubt as well. Cas obviously had his doubts and was about to speak up, but Sam interrupted him. _

"_Besides that," he continued, "We just got off a case where five people died in five days. The deaths were suspicious too, so I think the husband was a witch. He caught wind of us on his tail, put some kind of curse on me, and that's it."_

"_Agreed," Dean said. He avoided looking at Cas, as Sam did, since neither of them wanted to see his cynical expression. "So now we just gotta figure out what kind of curse it was so we can break it."_

"_And that means finding the witch," Sam nodded. "It's too strong for us to figure out on our own since it managed to make it through all the warding of the bunker."_

"_When're we goin' on the hunt?"_

"_Right now good?"_

_Sam expected Dean to say no, and to say that after just recovering from whatever kind of panic attack he had, he needed time to get rested. Instead, he nodded with vigor. "Right now," he confirmed. "Let's head out."_

And so they did. They packed up some clothes for a few days, some snacks for the road, and their regular essentials. They briefly thanked Cas for his help, didn't give him a chance to protest, and then walked out the front door. Both of them knew that they did Cas a great disservice by ignoring him, but he couldn't possibly be right. Nothing about any "Fear of Abel" appeared in either of their research the entire time.

It wasn't real. It was that simple.

Dean turned the dial down and broke the momentary silence almost immediately. "So our guy's still locked away in jail?"

"No," Sam said, staring at the cell phone in his hand. He was grateful for service on it; he and Dean didn't have time to sit in the bunker and do research on a laptop all the time. Besides, better to be on the road and looking at it than in the haven with Cas trying to convince them about the Fear of Abel. He chased away those thoughts, summing out the report he was reading."He was moved to a psychiatric ward outside Mayberry, Mississippi. I can't find any details on why he was transferred…"

"It's obvious enough," Dean shrugged. "Guy killed five people and his bride for some kind of revenge plot. I'm surprised he wasn't sent there in the first place."

Sam agreed. The situation was fishy to start with, since everyone died so suspiciously, he was sick, and the guy wasn't sent where he was supposed to go. "Let's just hurry and get there," Sam said, setting his phone on the seat as he relaxed into the seat and shut his eyes.

Dean, naturally, looked over and caught that expression. "You good?"

"Just wiped out," Sam said, being half-honest. "I'm gonna rest until we get there. You good to drive a while?"

"Yeah, get some rest, Sleeping Beauty."

Sam didn't bother responding to the snark. It was just Dean's attempt to lighten the mood, anyway. He made himself comfortable and was out within a few minutes.

*…*…*…*…*…*

With two quick flashes of FBI badges and the confidence that they had after lying about their jobs for so many years, it was easy for Sam and Dean to be allowed back to the room. Irvine Pennbury was in a room similar to a jail cell but with white walls and air-conditioning as opposed to gray prisons and stifling heat. Not a bad room to be in, considering he deserved so much worse than that. The large glass window that they looked in through was enough for them to see a man who was completely unrepentant for his sins.

The nurse let them in and assured them privacy; they had cameras on in the room, but no audio recordings would surface. The Winchesters were grateful for that; the last thing they needed was someone overhearing them talk of witchcraft and curses.

As soon as they entered the room, they introduced themselves as Agents Rogers and Romanoff and said they had some questions to ask him.

"Now Mr. Pennbury," Dean said, sitting himself down in one of the green chairs and facing the man who sat on the edge of his bed. He leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him, looking as non-threatening as he could to create a relaxed environment. "Obviously the events at your wedding reception have brought you here. But we've noticed a string of deaths in Kristen's family as well."

"Yes, I'm aware of those," Irvine said calmly. "I confessed to those deaths at the reception. Didn't somebody record my tirade on their cell phone?"

"Are you holding to that confession?" Dean continued as if nothing happened. He cracked a smile. "Because it really doesn't seem possible that you killed all those people."

"Oh yes, my alibis…I suppose they would make things confusing."

Sam remained standing and silent until that point, but he broke his silence when he noticed a tick of irritation in Dean. "We're referring to the method of the deaths, Mr. Pennbury. One suffocated with no signs of strangulation, another choked on a raisin, a third had a light pole crash on them…" Those causes of death were way too unnatural to be caused by anyone but a witch.

Ivine stared right at Sam. He should have recognized him; even if Sam never introduced himself to him at the reception, he should have seen him there. And he definitely should have known him, since he put a curse on him that caused him to go into extreme panic.

But there was no recognition in his eyes. None at all. Just calculation and pride. "I'm a witch," he said. "I can do whatever I want and make people die however I want them to."

Dean and Sam briefly exchanged looks. Neither of them were expected Irvine to come right out and confess it, but at the same time, it should have been an option in their minds. If he kept spewing all that stuff to anyone who would listen, he really would be considered insane and not held too accountable for the deaths he caused.

"You don't believe me," Irvine said. "That's to be expected. I'm not in a psychiatric ward for nothing."

Dean disregarded the question. He was already leaning forward a lot, but he managed to lean in even closer. Sam saw that if he moved another inch, Dean would fall on the floor. He was longing to get the answers out of him, and now that they didn't have to ease their way into the topic, the end was within reach. "So you used your "witchcraft" to kill five people, but a gun to kill Kristen," Dean said in fake skepticism. "And you spread it all out over the course of a week. That's calculation."

"I was determined to have my vengeance. That family took part in the Salem Witch Trials and killed some relatives of mine. I had to return the favor."

"Did that determination of yours cause you to hurt anyone outside the family?"

Irvine blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Was there anybody who was a threat to your crusade?" Dean asked. "Did you inflict any curses on them?"

Irvine Pennbury stared at Dean. Dean returned the favor. In those few moments, Irvine discovered the truth. "I see…" he said slowly. He shifted uneasily and sat up straighter so Dean couldn't reach out and grab his throat. "You two are hunters."

Sam continued his charade, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Hunters? What-?"

"That's right," Dean interrupted. He continued his staring match with Irvine. "So answer my question: Did you hurt anybody outside the family?"

"I'm sure that you'll kill me however I answer."

"Humor me," Dean practically growled.

Irvine's nervousness remained, but he met Dean's eyes once more. "No," he said. "I didn't curse anyone else."

In that instant, Dean's right arm shot forward. He grabbed Irvine by the neck and squeezed it tightly. While Irvine's eyes bulged in fear, Dean's were wide in anger. "You're lying," he said.

"Dean!" Sam protested.

"I'm….not," Irvine gasped.

"Then what about my brother?!"

"What…about…"

"**Him**!" Dean pointed a hand back at Sam, who was no longer so far back. He was right behind him and reaching towards the arm that was extended at Irvine. No matter how much Sam grabbed at him though, Dean wasn't going to let go. "He was watching you at your wedding reception and he suddenly got sick. What'd you do to him?!"

"Sure…it wasn't…heatstroke?"

"You think it's funny?" Dean scolded. Finally, Sammy managed to get under his arm and rip it off Irvine. He yanked Dean to his feet and started to pull him to the door, certain that staff would be appearing soon to interrupt what was on their security feeds. "Sammy, let me go! Irvine, what'd you do?!"

Irvine held a hand to his throat, chuckling softly while he wheezed and tried to catch his breath. Even as Sam dragged him out, they both heard Irvine's final confession. "_Nothing at all._"

*…*…*…*…*…*

After Sam physically dragged Dean out of the building, opened the side door of the impala and shoved him inside, he hopped into the driver's seat. Whoever saw that security footage was bound to be on their tails in just a few seconds, so he floored it and zoomed out of the parking lot.

_Great, _he thought to himself. _Now there's no way we'll ever be allowed to see him again. _But then, that didn't seem like a huge deal. As startling as it was to realize it, he actually believed Irvine. He had no clue who he was or what was happening to him. That only helped encourage Cas's previous diagnosis.

"Well good goin', Sam," Dean fumed from the passenger seat. "I almost cracked him before you dragged us out of there."

Sam gripped the steering wheel more tightly. "The only thing you were about to crack was his skull," he said as calmly as he could. "If we stayed any longer, we were going to be kicked out."

"At least we would have been kicked out with an answer!"

"I don't think so."

Sam could feel Dean's eyes boring into him. "You can't be serious."

"I think he was telling the truth. I don't think that he had anything to do with what happened to me."

"That's the only logical explanation for what's going on…"

Sam inhaled a breath, and then exhaled. He wanted to snap at Dean because he hated the conversation too, but he could tell that Dean was unnaturally riled up from the confrontation. At least one of them had to keep their wits about them. "It's not," Sam disagreed. He kept his eyes on the road, refusing to look over at the brother who was surely angry with him for considering the other diagnosis. "Cas-"

"Cas is wrong. Alright? We don't need to think about that."

Dean was too irritated to think logically about that. But Sam could only restrain himself so much; he was about to burst. Whether it was because of anger, fear, or a combination of the two, he was going to speak his mind completely. "You know, I get that you don't want to think about it as an option," Sam said through his teeth. "But it **is **a possibility. Do you see what's happening to you right now?"

"No, Sam, what's happening to me right now?" Dean asked, simply antagonizing him.

"You're constantly trying to solve all your problems with violence. That guy in there? You were way too rough with him. Logic means nothing to you as long as you have somebody to sucker punch."

"I was perfectly calm before he started lying," Dean snarled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You can't tell me you weren't going to kill that guy."

"Fine, I was gonna kill the guy. He deserved it, so what's the big deal?"

Sam lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know what, Dean?" he sighed. "Forget it."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"Fine."

"_Fine!_" Sam said in exasperation. Sometimes, he could swear that Dean was a child in a man's body. There wasn't any need for the back and forth argument of trying to have the last word. They were grown adults. Hunters. Men who stopped the freaking apocalypse. You'd think they'd be past that level of immaturity by now, but no, Dean held onto it.

_He's only this irritable because of the mark, _Sam told himself in order to calm down. He shouldn't have been so hard on him since he wasn't fully in his right mind. What was most important now was to find _some _way to cure the mark. Whatever Sam's illness was could wait until that point. It wasn't like he was going to be inflicted with it once a day from now on, right?"

Out of habit, Sam caught himself not fully focusing on the road. It was okay since he drove so much; his autopilot was dependable. But looking down at his hands, he saw just how tightly they were holding onto the steering wheel. _And _they were trembling.

_Oh no, _he thought as his stomach writhed. It was happening. It was seriously happening again, as he drove the impala on with Dean riding shotgun. He glanced over to the side and saw Dean was staring dead ahead, like he was seriously lost in thought. His right hand was curled tightly, as if holding a weapon. Craving it, calling it.

Sam swerved off to the side of the road, sufficiently snapping Dean out of his daze. "What?" Dean snapped, still angry from the fight. But as soon as he saw Sammy put the car in park and stumble out the driver's-side door, he knew his emotions were misplaced. "Sammy?" he called after him softly. Sam didn't hear him; he walked around the front of the car, stumbling and setting a hand on the hood of the car for balance. He made his way over to the woods before he fell onto his knees. Aside from the dizziness, he felt like he was going to toss everything in his stomach and then pass out.

_It's the same as before, _Sam vaguely thought as he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't stand to see the blackness starting to fill in from the outsides of his vision and take over, so he just blocked everything out by keeping his eyes tightly shut. All the sounds around him were muffled, the air unnaturally warm and humid. It was difficult to even take in a breath to sustain himself.

Dean's car door squeaked open and then slammed shut. For a brief moment, Sam thought that he heard his brother's voice, calling out to him, trying to convince him to pull himself out of his current state. He wanted to follow those instructions more than anything, but it wasn't nearly that simple.

He couldn't hear or see much, but he felt something clearly: a hand on the side of his face, pulling him into a warm chest. It was hard enough to breathe before, so a new position didn't really alter anything. If anything, it shocked Sam enough to open his eyes at last. The woods were in front of him, clouded by black spots, but clearer than they had been a few moments ago when he looked.

The woods weren't the most interesting thing to think about anyway. Sam couldn't move his head because it was being held in place, but he knew what was going on. Dean was kneeling by his side, and he pulled Sam so he was leaning into him. The elder brother was probably thinking that Sam would pass out—that was why he was holding him so close.

Yet, another part of Sam's mind went elsewhere. It went back in time, to when he and Dean were 8 and 12. Sam was still new to the hunting world and terrified every time their dad went out on a trip. Even worse than that, John accidentally brought his work home on more than one occasion. Whenever that happened, Dean would grab him and hold him, just like this. He would cradle his head with one hand and hold out a pistol in the other. All the while, he would whisper reassurances of how nothing bad was going to happen to him while he was taking care of him.

As Sam started to come out of it, he heard Dean muttering such words again. That was when he knew how totally screwed they were.

The Fear of Abel was real. And he was stuck with it until the day he died.

*…*…*…*…*

**Author: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! They are super encouraging, and like I said, they spur me on to write chapters faster. I have an end-goal in mind and basically know how I want to get there, but if you ever have requests for specific things to happen, drop them in a comment and I'll consider adding them in.**

**One reviewer (sylvia37) commented on how the plot could fit into the show, and that's something I love to hear. That was the first thing I thought of when I conceived the plot, and I was terrified that this could unfold because I know where I'm going to take it—believe me, it's tragic. **

**But you'll just have to wait and see how tragic. ;)**

**See you in about a week, **

**Peanut**


	5. Chapter 5: Reality

Chapter Five: Reality

The Fear of Abel was real. And Sam knew that he was stuck with it until the day he died.

Those weren't exactly the most comforting realizations to have in the middle of a panic attack. Even without the panic attack, the thoughts were enough to break a person. Cas said there was only one way to get rid of the fear, and that was for Sam to die by Dean's hand. And he knew that Dean would never let that happen. In those moments of terror, that was both a comfort and a curse.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sam took in a shaky breath and then released it. He did it again, and once more for good measure. It hardly helped anything, but at least he was still conscious, not blacking out so much, and not a hysterical mess. And he was glad he and Dean were sitting by the side of the impala that kept them hidden from any other traffic coming by. It would have been awkward for somebody to drive by and see two grown men curled up on the ground. Heck, it was humiliating enough for Dean to see him like this, even if he couldn't control it.

Sam lifted a hand, tapping Dean's hand that cupped the side of his face. Slowly, Dean released him and Sam was free to move once more. He wordlessly sat up straighter and pushed himself back, leaning against the impala as he fully composed himself. He wiped the sweat off his brow and cleared his throat. The one thing he didn't do was look at Dean. He looked down at his lap instead and listened as Dean began to rise to his feet.

"Let's head back to the bunker," he said from above Sam. "Whatever this is, we'll find some research there and nip it in the bud."

_Are you still in denial, Dean? Seriously? _After that confrontation with the witch and the obvious collapse of Sam, he couldn't seriously think something else was happening. Sam was too tired to argue with him or convince him to accept reality; he just wanted a few moments of peace to compose himself.

"Sam, c'mon, let's go," Dean ordered more strictly. He reached down and grabbed Sam by his arms to pull him up, but as strong as Dean was, he couldn't physically drag the moose to his feet without some level of cooperation. "**Sam**."

Sam opened his eyes, wearily looking up. That was when he fully understood Dean. He was looking at him with masked terror. His actions were spurred not by cold logic like he was trying to convey; he was afraid at what was really happening.

Dean knew. He knew but he didn't have the nerve to say it or admit that there wasn't any other problem to research. There was no cure to find, no riddle to be solved. Both of them knew how the story was going to end, but Dean, out of necessity, needed to act like everything was going to be okay.

Out of consideration for his brother, Sam grabbed Dean's outstretched hand and rose to his feet. The passenger side door was just inches away from his hand, so he opened it and half-climbed and half-fell into the seat. His hand automatically worked the seatbelt as Dean walked around to the driver's side and sat down. Whatever rage he had before calmed down with the incident, so at least one of them was composed enough to drive.

Even with his eyes looking straight ahead, Sam could feel Dean's worried gaze on him for a few seconds. Then his gaze went to the road. The drive to the bunker was completely silent. Sam because he was zonked for the majority of it, and Dean because if he spoke one word, he would completely break.

*…*…*…*…*…*

At the bunker, Cas was gracious. As soon as he saw Dean ushering an obviously weakened Sam down the stairs, he knew that there was another incident. He didn't instigate them by asking stupid questions, like how the meeting with Irvine went or what caused them both to look so disheartened. He simply met their eyes and nodded in a gentle, sad way.

Sam was the first one to respond to Cas. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hello," the angel responded.

Sam walked into the dining room at a slow pace, the other two following closely behind. He had a feeling that the moment he stumbled, both of them would be there to try and catch him. Fortunately, he made it to a dining room chair and sat himself down without incident.

"Sam, you should-"

Sam lifted a hand and stopped Dean midsentence. He knew what he was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it. He wasn't going back to his bedroom. There were more important things to take care of now. "Cas," Sam said softly, looking up at one of his best friends. "Sorry for ignoring you. It was stupid."

"I believe I understand why you did," Castiel said with a sympathetic nod. "Humans first cope by ignoring and denying their problems. Then follows anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance."

The brunet lifted a hand and scratched his head. "That's not…" he started, though he didn't finish. Those were the five stages of grief. Typically people thought of grief as occurring after somebody dies and in mourning, but grief could occur for any reason on any occasion. Sam supposed that they were grieving over the Fear of Abel, but he quickly moved through the five stages. He wasn't angry, wasn't bargaining, and was actually okay emotionally.

Dean, however, wasn't that far along.

"I'm still not convinced," Dean said, though his voice betrayed him.

Sam was too tired to put up with that act. He knew why Dean was still in denial; that was an easier route to take than to believe that he was destined to kill Sam. At the same time, though, Sam wasn't going to play that game anymore. He knew what was wrong with him and so did Cas. It was a grim diagnosis, but after all the searching they did for the Mark, they were quickly coming to the conclusion that there was no cure. And if there was no cure for the Mark, there was no cure for the Fear of Abel.

"Cas," Sam started, "Are you absolutely positive that there's absolutely no way to cure this?"

"I'm positive."

"Fear of Abel doesn't exist, guys! C'mon!"

"Even if there was," Castiel continued, "There would be no way to find it. Abel was the only person to ever suffer from it, and he never was cured."

"Knock it off, you two," Dean warned.

Sam lifted a hand, brushing some stray locks away from his face. "Then we'll just have to keep looking for a cure for the Mark."

Dean could at least agree with that. "I hate to be the one to bring this up, but what about Metatron?"

That was a conversation neither Cas nor Sam wanted to humor. Dean didn't know about the adventure Sam and Cas had the other week with Metatron and breaking in and out of heaven.

"Metatron is dead," Sam said simply. When Castiel looked at him sharply, he tried not to change his expression. "And he didn't know anything. It was all a bluff."

"What?" Dean grasped the back of the chair with his right hand. "How can you be so sure?"

Castiel looked away in obvious discomfort. Lies between brothers never ended well. Sam, too tired to complete the lie, decided to just come out with it. "Because Cas and I broke into heaven, busted him out of jail, and interrogated him. He said it was all a lie to buy him time."

"And he was telling the truth," Castiel added while Dean took the information in.

Sam expected Dean to be ticked off that they not only kept that from him, but also that they went on a trip like that on their own. Instead, he looked sad. "He was our last chance, wasn't he?"

"For multiple cures," Cas nodded. When Dean looked up at him with a confused expression, he continued. "Metatron said that my grace wasn't completely depleted. He said that if I spared his life, he would lead me to it."

Judging by Cas's tone, Dean knew the choice that he made. "You killed him."

"He was too dangerous to keep alive," Cas said. "Besides, all of Heaven would be searching for him. I'm doubtful I could have kept him hidden long enough to retrieve my grace."

"Hold on," Dean said. "…You two broke Heaven's most dangerous criminal out of Heaven and killed him. Doesn't that mean the angels are gonna hunt you two now?"

"I think we've got bigger problems than that," Sam stated. He didn't want to think about the consequences of their excursion in Heaven. Dean was right; angels could have been looking for them everywhere, and who knew what they would do once they found the pair. "The Mark."

"Well you just said it yourselves—Metatron was the last chance at a cure. There's only one other thing I can think of…"

"What?"

Dean wouldn't meet his gaze. Instead, he stared at his hand holding the chair. Whatever he was going to say, they all knew it wasn't going to be good. "Sammy, go get the demon blade," he requested softly.

The instant Dean finished that sentence, Sam's blood turned cold. "No," he said, shaking his head swiftly and continuing in horror. "No. Absolutely not."

"Sam."

"I'm not _killing _you, Dean!"

"And I'm not **killing **you!" he snapped right back. "Now you go get that blade right now and put an end to this, or I will."

"The Hell you will!" _If you even __**try **__a stupid stunt like that, I'll… _What? He couldn't think of anything he'd do, other than knock Dean senseless.

"What am I supposed to do?!" Dean was unraveling quickly, his anger fueled by fear and desperation that he rarely expressed. "Look, I've had this plan in place a while, for the day I turn demon again. This fear crap doesn't change that…"

"You've **had **that plan?" Sam repeated. "You've hadthat plan for a while, Dean? And you seriously thought it was_ reasonable_?"

"There are no other options, Sammy! Especially not now. I know it's extreme, but it's the only-"

Sam's fist cut under Dean's jaw, strong enough to knock the older brother onto his back. The chair that he was grasping toppled to the ground along with him, clamoring to the ground right beside his fallen body. Dean stared up at Sam, shocked. Sam was just as surprised as he was; he didn't expect the punch to come, but he wasn't going to let Dean talk like that. "I would never agree with that plan!" he practically shouted. He fought off the tears in his eyes, feeling more like a frightened child than a seasoned hunter. "And besides that, it wouldn't even work! The Mark'll keep you alive forever, so our only option's to get rid of it."

Dean sat up, wiping some blood that dribbled out of his mouth. He hardly looked fazed by the attack; perhaps it was the mark that gave him greater tolerance to pain as well. "You and I both know that's not possible."

"I'm not going to stop looking," he declared. "So you'll have to suck it up and deal with it until we find a cure. No checking out early. Got it?"

Dean only stared at Sam. The longer they held eye contact, the longer the hopelessness of Dean transferred over to Sam. They couldn't find a cure before the Fear, and now with that lingering over them, it would be hard for Sam to focus on his research because the panic attacks would come so quickly.

Sam wasn't going to let Dean see the hopelessness impact him. Locking his jaw tightly, Sam turned around and walked away, retreating to his bedroom so that he could take out his frustrations in private. Dean just sat on the ground and watched him walk away.

The third presence in the room, who had been temporarily forgotten, shifted awkwardly on his feet. When Dean saw that movement out of the corner of his eye, he spoke to Cas. "You'll do it, won't you Cas?" he requested. "You'll put me down next time I turn into a demon."

In the next moments, Dean was reminded of a very painful lesson, one that he titled himself as: "Do Not Piss off the Nerd Angels." Cas grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him to his feet, and slammed him into a nearby wall.

"I will not," Castiel said, staring at Dean with both anger and fear. "And if you ever consider that again, know that both Sam and I will never be able to forgive you."

The two of them had their own staring match, just as Dean had with Sam moments ago. In the past few years, Cas had softened and became less warrior and more friend. The warrior hadn't disappeared, though; in those eyes were the strength and determination of a seasoned fighter who knew the match wasn't over yet.

After a few moments, Cas let go of Dean's shirt and walked away. Dean straightened himself out and stared after him, knowing better than to bring the conversation up again. It would stay in the back of his mind instead.

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Author: I don't know about you guys, but I'm terrified about the season 10 finale. That last episode was entirely too heartbreaking, and Dean saying those things to Sam…ugh. So frustrating and heartbreaking. **

**Fair warning: Next week will be tragic with that episode and the next chapter promises more feels too. **

**Also, if anybody is unaware, Jared Padalecki (Sam) posted on Twitter earlier this week that he needed to miss some cons to go home to be with his family. While the fandom doesn't know what's going on, he did request a lot of love and support sent his way. Let's encourage him on Twitter and Facebook to #Alwayskeepfighting. **


	6. Chapter 6: Sin and Sacrifice

Chapter Six: Sin and Sacrifice

The next few days weren't exactly easy, but since when was anything easy? Dean contemplated that thought as he sipped a beer. It was strange for him to be alone in the dining room, researching on a laptop for a case. For some reason, Sam wasn't coming out of his room much. If the Fear of Abel was happening, Dean could see why, but he made sure he never thought about the blade or let the Mark have its way with him.

For three days, he managed not to crave the weapon at all. He controlled his mind and captured each stray thought before it could evolve into a monster. That was a victory that he wanted to celebrate, but at the same time, he could never let his guard down, not with Sammy's sanity on the line. That was why he was researching a case. There had to be _something _to keep the Mark off his mind and thus keep Sam fear free.

When Sam sleepily walked into the room in his sweatpants and T-shirt, Dean immediately lifted his head out of the laptop. A part of him felt guilty for using Sam's, but Sam didn't seem to care. In fact, he was just wiping the hair out of his face. The way he walked in reminded him of how sick Sam was when he was doing the trials to seal the gates of Hell.

"That beauty sleep doesn't look like it's helping you much," Dean said, half-teasing. _What's up, little brother? _

"Ugh, shut up," Sam responded. If he took it as anything other than teasing, he didn't let it show. He sat himself down at the table, containing the last strands of hair behind his ear as he did so. "What're you doing?"

"Looking for a case. Figured we needed to get back to what we do best." When Sam just stared at him, Dean continued. "You know…saving people, hunting things. Family business. Any of this ringing a bell, Sammy?"

"Yeah, I hear you." Sam looked like he could hardly keep his eyes open. Black circles were underneath both, his face pale, and his overall composure looked too frail for a man who was so large. "I think I'll pass on this one though."

Dean straightened. He couldn't possibly be serious. Letting Dean go out on a case, alone, with the Mark as influential as it was? "Are you still off in dreamland?" he asked in attempt to both straighten Sam out and keep the mood as light as possible.

"I understand," Sam nodded. "Why don't you go do something with Cas and Charlie? I'm sure they'd both be up to something."

It was true; Charlie was always looking for ways to grow as a hunter. And Cas just wanted to make the rest of his life useful while his grace ran out. Dean hated to put him in danger when his condition was frailer, but maybe it'd be good for him. They could all use some hunter therapy. "What're you gonna do?" he asked then.

"Just catch a breath," Sam said.

Dean leaned closer to Sam, who did meet his gaze but did so with tired eyes. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Just haven't been sleeping well the past few nights."

_Probably worry over the Mark. And the Fear thing. _Dean accepted that Sam and Cas weren't going to put him down, or let Dean do it himself. The demon blade was stored somewhere far away just so Dean wouldn't have the option. That meant that they had to find a cure, somehow. And if they didn't find one soon, both of them would be lost. "Catch up on some Z's, then," Dean said. He rose to his feet, closing the laptop in front of him. "I found something in Idabel, Arkansas. Shouldn't be more than a few days. You'll be good?"

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Dean was going to worry; heck, he already was. But if he didn't get out of the bunker and keep himself busy, his mind would start to stray and he would cause Sam pain again. He nodded slightly and walked past Sam, briefly setting a hand atop his bushy hair as he headed to his room to pack. He was doing this for Sam.

*…*…*…*…*…*

Charlie and Cas were meeting Dean an hour away from the bunker for the case. Apparently they were both coming from the same place, so they said they'd be there soon. In the meantime, Dean was already worried. He grabbed his cell phone and called one other ally that he and Sam had: Sheriff Jody Mills.

"_Dean!" _Jody Mills said into her end of the receiver. "_What can I do for you?"_

It was sad those were the first words Jody spoke. It meant that they never called about anything but cases or business. Jody was a good friend to both of them, and to Bobby. Dean made a mental note to call just to check in next time, not to make an extreme request.

"This is going to sound crazy…" Dean started, glancing out the car window just to make sure nobody was close enough to hear him. He was sitting in the middle of nowhere, so of course no one could overhear. He took in a deep breath while Jody patiently waited. "I'm going on a case a couple hours away from home with Cas and Charlie."

"_What about Sam_?"

"Sam's not feeling good," Dean said honestly. "He's been sick the past few days and I'm worried about the kid. But he wanted me to go on the case, so…"

"_So…?_" Jody prompted.

Dean lifted a hand to his face. "Could you come to the bunker and keep an eye on him while I'm gone?"

The other line was silent for a few moments. "_You want me to watch over your 32 year old brother?_"

That was why he was afraid to call. He was afraid that his request would be too foolish and stupid. "Sorry I—"

"_I'll be there by nightfall. Does he know I'm coming?"_

Dean breathed a silent sigh of relief. Jody agreed. She actually agreed to it. "I'll call him in a minute and tell him. Don't expect him to be too happy…"

"_I've babysat him before, while you were having an adventure in the 40's. I've had worse."_

"Thanks, Sheriff."

"_Jody," _she corrected. "_Now, what's he sick with?" _

"Honestly?" Dean glanced out and saw Charlie and Cas's ride pulling up. "I don't have time to get into that discussion. I gotta go. Just…keep an eye on him, alright? Make sure he doesn't pass out anywhere weird."

"_I'll look out for him," _she promised. "_And I know—I'll call if things go south."_

"Thanks." Dean hung up the phone. Charlie and Cas just parked their car and were getting out, preparing to grab their bags. He didn't have time to drop Sam an official call, so he shot him a text. "_Sending Jody Mills your way. Think of her as your babysitter the next few days, kiddo."_

Twenty seconds later, a response came through. "_Jerk." _

Dean smiled, sent his own term of affection, and rose to greet his friends. Everything would be okay now. He was sure of it.

*…*…*…*…*…*

Sam never knew what it was like to have a real, bona fide mother. In a lot of ways, Dean acted motherly towards him growing up; he always made the meals, tucked him into bed at night, washed the clothes. Not to mention the worried scoldings that he would give every now and then. But there was a difference; Dean was most definitely a big brother first, not a mom or a dad.

Jody Mills, on the other hand, who he wasn't even related to, was more of a mother.

"Finish your soup," Jody ordered. Sam glanced down at the bowl on the table. Considering how full it was at the start and how tired he was, it was a miracle that he managed to get through ¾ of the bowl. The last quarter seemed like far too much for him.

"Jody—" he started.

"Dean said you were sick," she said. "If you want to get better, you gotta finish that soup."

_So, she doesn't know about the Mark or the Fear, _Sam thought. Why didn't Dean tell her? "I appreciate it," he said, slowly twirling his spoon around the bowl. "But it's not that kind of sickness."

"Could have fooled me," she said. She sat down in the chair across from Sam, leaning over the table and setting clasped hands before her. "You got the shakes, you're pale as a ghost, your eyes are vacant…"

Sam didn't feel like talking about it, but maybe if he did, Jody would give him a little more room. "It's called the Fear of Abel," he said without looking up. "Long story short, whenever Dean starts thinking about the First Blade, I experience panic attacks."

Jody immediately softened from tough loving mom to patient and sympathetic. "How long are the panic attacks?"

"Sometimes minutes. Sometimes an hour."

"Sam…" she breathed.

"So I'm not sick," he concluded, finally dropping the spoon into the bowl instead of playing with his food. "Just wiped out."

"When was your last panic attack? You didn't have one here while you were alone, did you?"

"No," he shook his head. "I haven't had one today. I just…"

"What?" she asked gently.

"Nothing."

Just like that, the gentle approach vanished. "Sam Winchester," she said in a motherly tone. "You tell me what's on your mind before I beat it out of you."

He looked up, startled to see just how serious she was. No matter how many monsters he fought, there were a few things that could still terrify him. One of those things was a threat from Jody when she was serious.

"I haven't slept well at all the past few nights. I can't figure out if they're connected to everything or not…I wouldn't quite label them panic attacks since you have to be awake for those, and whatever's happening to me, it's not enough to wake me up. I sleep through the night and wake up even more tired than I was before I went to bed."

"I'm assuming Dean doesn't know."

She knew the Winchesters too well. When Sam stayed silent, she simply sighed and shook her head. "Sam…"

"I didn't want to get him worked up over it, not until I knew for sure what it was."

"It doesn't matter what it is, Sam—It's hurting you!" Again, Sam had no rebuttal. Jody reached for her cell phone, flipping it open to sift through her contacts. "Dean should know about this, right now."

Sam wearily reached across the table, setting a hand on the phone. "He's on a hunting trip," he said softly. "If you tell him, he'll be even more distracted out there. I'll tell him when he comes back, alright?"

Though Jody didn't like it, she also didn't like the idea of giving Dean this kind of news. She hesitantly put her cell phone away, seeing Sam visibly relax once it was put away. She silently resolved to call Dean if Sam got sick that night, but then, she had that resolve earlier, anyway.

"Look, Jody, I appreciate all this, and I'm sorry Dean forced you to babysit me."

"He didn't force me to do anything," she corrected. As soon as Jody saw the tired, weary look on Sam's face, she softened. Now wasn't the time to pick fights over stupid, small things like that. "Just know that I'm here because I want to help you boys in any way I can. So Sam, what can I do?"

Sam smiled faintly, appreciative. "I'm just going back to bed. It's sensible for people to sleep at 7:30 at night, isn't it?"

"That's right," Jody humored. "Go get some rest, I'll keep myself busy."

"Careful with the anti-demon charms."

"Will do."

"And try not to stray into the torture chamber."

"You boys have one of those? Why am I not surprised?"

"And—"

"Sam Winchester," Jody smiled softly. "Go get some rest. I'll take care of myself just fine."

Once more, Sam offered her a meek smile. He nodded, slowly rose to his feet, and walked away. His unfinished soup remained on the table, along with a glass of water he barely touched. Jody lowered her gaze to those items, and as soon as Sam was out of earshot, she sighed.

Her boys just couldn't stay out of trouble, could they?

*…*…*…*…*…*

Castiel was still awake at 11:30 at night. Despite his failing grace, he was still an angel, so he didn't require sleep. All he needed were periods of rest, where he closed his eyes and gathered his strength. The nighttime was a good time to do that; Charlie and Dean slept in the beds across the room, lying comfortably and breathing deeply. They had arrived and briefly talked to some of the townspeople, but it wasn't long before they decided that it was time to retire to a hotel room.

From what he saw, Dean was doing better. He was joking around, laughing with them, making smart remarks and flirting with girls at the bar. Perhaps Dean _could _fight off the Mark. If he could hold off for however long Sam was alive, that alone was a major goal. If Cas had his grace, he would have been afraid of living forever and seeing the damage that Dean would do, but no—his time was almost gone.

At that moment, Dean's cell phone rang. It was sitting on the stand by his bedside, vibrating quite loudly. Cas glanced at Dean, and then at Charlie. Neither of them were stirring at the loud buzzing. He still wasn't too familiar with cell phones, especially ones that weren't his own. He rose and stood between the beds, eyeing the phone warily. The name that appeared on the screen was that of Jody Mills.

Resigning himself, Cas picked up the phone and spoke softly into the receiver. "Hello?"

"_Dean!"_

"No." He paused. "This is Castiel."

"_I need Dean on the phone right now. Sam's…"_

"Sam?" At that one word, he expected Dean would be fully awake and ready to steal the phone. He slept on. Charlie on the other hand, rolled over and looked at him, confused and clearly not grasping that something was wrong.

"Jody, what's wrong with Sam?" Cas demanded.

_"He's having some kind of night terror…I can't bring him out of it. I've tried everything—I even dumped ice water on his face. He's not waking up."_

Now, Charlie knew something was up. Without even knowing the full situation, she climbed out of bed and approached the sleeping Winchester. "Dean," she called, both firm and gentle. Nothing. She grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "**Dean**." Again, no response. When she and Cas's eyes met, both of them had a serious revelation. They glanced at Dean's right arm and saw that the mark was glowing softly, and that his hand was curled tightly into a fist.

He was craving the blade. Calling to it. And Sam was feeling it.

The worst part was, it seemed like both of them were locked in this state of slumber.

"_Cas, get Dean on the phone!"_

"He's…" Cas tried. He tried to think of the words to tell Jody what was going on. To tell himself that there truly was no hope for Dean or Sam. To tell Charlie to stop screaming at Dean like she was. Her muffled cries and pleads for Dean to wake up fell on deaf ears. Hundreds of miles away from each other, one brother was writhing in agony while another probably wasn't aware of the pain he was inflicting.

The situation appeared too hopeless, too far gone to be resolved. And it was.

*…*…*…*…*…*

When Cas, Charlie, and Dean returned to the bunker the following morning, Dean couldn't look at Sam. Sam and Jody had been in the library, waiting for all of them to come home. Dean walked right through. Nobody tried to stop him. That morning, Dean woke up and felt refreshed. It was torture to tell Dean of their discovery during the night, and how hurt Sam was because of it. Even after hours on the road, Dean was too devastated to even apologize for it.

Dean couldn't be consoled, so the three hoped that they could comfort Sam in some way.

Even exhausted, Sam was courteous to them. He said that he wanted some time alone with his brother, and he requested for them to vacate the bunker for a few hours. Seeing no immediate threat, the agreed and left.

Thirty minutes later, Sam was curled up on the floor in another panic attack that was far worse than any other he experienced. By that point, he experienced the panic attacks often enough that he had a few methods of coping. In his moments of terror, Sam tried to cheer himself up somehow. All he could come up with today was recalling a loony case where a man's heart was beating so hard that it literally flew out of his chest. He darkly wondered if he was to suffer the same fate today. He curled on the floor and held his head, seeing his bedroom become more and more clouded in his vision. _Dean's close to it. Very close… _

There was no one with him. No one to reach out to try and comfort him, and nobody to stop Dean before it was too late.

Sam simply closed his eyes, wiping the sweat off his brow as he shook his head. Like Dean, Sam couldn't control his reaction. Dean had the Mark of Cain, and Sam had the Fear of Abel. There was only one way to end both of those curses, and they both knew it.

A part of him hoped he would have a heart attack and die at that moment; Dean wouldn't have to be the one to put him out of his misery, then. And Sam would _finally _be free from the terror that felt like it was physically tearing him apart. He couldn't even open his eyes to try and find some spare alcohol in the room; he squeezed his eyes shut like a small child and nearly began to cry.

And then in an instant, the weight on Sam's heart vanished. The blood stopped pumping in his ears, his heart began to slow, and his thoughts were clear. He slowly looked up, seeing the room with clear eyes.

His next actions came all too naturally. Sam wordlessly unarmed himself, discarding his knife and gun onto the floor. He knew what had to happen next. And he wouldn't try to fight it. So, he walked out of the library and down the halls. He didn't run or drag his feet. He walked to where his feet led him: Dean's bedroom. There is brother stood, with the weapon in his trembling hand. That terrible weapon, the First Blade, finally returned to its true master. Instead of looking extremely enraged like he had the last time he held the weapon, Dean looked terrified.

"Sam," Dean said, his voice shaking violently. "I can't control it, Sammy, you gotta run."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said. He stepped into the bedroom, taking his hands out of his pockets as he saw his older brother blink in shock. "There's only one way to break the curse," he said without fear or bitterness. "This has to happen eventually…"

"Sammy, no. That's just the curse talking, you hear me? It's the same thing that happened to Abel…"

Sam did hear him. And he did remember. Abel, eventually worn from all the panic attacks, accepted his death readily. There was a key difference that Sam saw: Abel gave in out of selfish fear. Sam was giving in out of selfless bravery.

"I'm not scared," Sam stated. He stepped into the room, only briefly glancing at the dagger that dangled by Dean's side. "I want you to be free of this. If this'll set you free, then I'll gladly—"

"Don't you say it!"

"—I'll die," Sam finished. "Because you're my big brother, and there's _nothing _I wouldn't do for you."

"And I'm supposed to protect you, dammit," Dean swore. Tears of agony and fear began to form in his eyes, though none were close to spilling over. Whenever they did, though, Sam knew that it would be "a single man tear." He smiled softly, taking a few steps forward while Dean protested. _That's my big brother. _

"Sammy, no. **Sammy**!" Dean cried. His hand remained down by his side, but it took every ounce of his will and concentration to keep it that way. It was even worse now that Sam was right in front of him.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, hugging him the same way that Dean did whenever he actually embraced his younger brother. It was a tight embrace, surrounding, encompassing all and shutting out the rest of the world. Whenever they hugged each other, it was a sign that they were alive and well. But it was only a matter of time before that changed.

"Sammy, please," Dean begged, feeling his arm begin to tremble more fiercely by his side. "Please…"

"You're my brother," Sam repeated. "I'm not letting you suffer with this curse anymore." He lifted a hand, giving Dean a brief clap on the back.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tightly, two tears sliding out of his eyes. He wanted to curse the kid out, but he didn't want the last thing for Sam to hear to be anything but love. He choked back a sob, opening his eyes to see that his arm weaved its way around Sam's back. His grip on the blade changed, the tip poking into Sam's lower back.

Sam felt it. He repeated reassurances in Dean's ear and lifted a hand to rest on the back of the head. _I should be comforting you! _Dean mentally screamed. _I should be protecting you! And now you're doing both for me…_There was still so much that he wanted to say, and five seconds—no, five _years _wasn't enough to cut it. He wanted all the time in the world with his little brother. His Sammy.

Sam began to go limp. Dean instinctively moved his free arm, holding it around his brother. "Sammy?" he asked in a trembling voice. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing that the blade was fully into his back. He missed it even occurring. "Sam?"

Moose that he was, Sam was too heavy for Dean to support. They slid down to their knees, and Sam kept his arms around Dean for as long as he lived. "Hey…Dean…" Sam started, his voice shallow and soft.

"Yeah?" Dean whimpered.

"I'm…proud of us, too."

Sam gave Dean one last squeeze in that embrace, and then he was gone.

With his final breath, Sam relieved Dean of the curse. The heat on his arm and the force that compelled him to stab his brother completely vanished. It was by that fact alone that Dean knew that his younger brother was more than dead; he was gone, without hope of revival by human means.

Dean cupped the back of Sam's head and sobbed, screaming his brother's name.

"_**Sam!**__"_

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Author: Once upon a time, this was going to be the finale of my story. Aren't you glad I changed my mind on that? **

**But seriously, this is the tragedy that I was building up to all along. Dean having no choice but to kill the one thing he protected, and Sam, being the brave, selfless person he is, is willing to do absolutely anything to save his big brother. FEELS MUCH. **

**That finale was something too, huh? Surprising in some ways, not so surprising in others. I'm extremely curious about how the new season will be, but it seems like they have a lot of options with characters like Rowena and Metatron on the loose. Crowley and Cas too, since I'm sure they didn't die. Want any more thoughts from me on the finale? Just PM or ask in a review. **

**-Peanut**


	7. Chapter 7: Escape Route

**Author's Disclaimer: This chapter does address a serious issue: suicide. It is a brief period, though and the subject is handled delicately. However, if this offends/upsets you in any way, please skip over this chapter. There will be a summary at the start of the next chapter reviewing what you missed here.**

Chapter Seven: Escape Route

Considering the Winchesters had plenty of experience being dead, Sam knew what it felt like. He also knew that, once more, he was dead. Quite honestly, it wasn't such a strange feeling. His body felt lighter, skin cleaner, and eyes more focused. It was a nice feeling, having your body in perfect condition after so many beatings. The idea of being dead, however, wasn't so pleasant. At least this time, it was accomplishing something. Dean _had _to complete the task, or the mark would have never disappeared.

There was something else handy about being a Winchester: death was never permanent. Sam was sure that if he gave Dean enough time, he'd find _some _way to resurrect him. But whatever means Dean used would probably be too extreme and too harmful. That's why Sam was eager to find his own way back to life, so Dean didn't have to do anything.

_So…does Heaven have an exit? _Sam thought as he inspected his surroundings. It was familiar enough; it was a heavenly version of the bunker. The only difference was that there were no dirty dishes or empty beer bottles sitting on the table. Did Heaven have some rule against alcohol? If it did, Heaven certainly wasn't for Dean. But then, they figured that out a long, long time ago.

"Alright, well…" Sam started, filling the unnatural silence with his own voice. "The heavenly bunker should have plenty of research materials too, so maybe it'll have some way out of this…" He walked over to a bookshelf and reached out, grabbing hold of a book with a bright red cover.

However, as soon as his hand wrapped around it, the book transformed into something else entirely: a beer. And along with that, his entire world shifted into a new setting. He started, spinning around and seeing that he was in an empty bar. There were no patrons, no signs of life at all within his line of sight.

"Welcome to Heaven's Research Café," a familiar voice said from over to his right.

Sam spun on his feet, eyes widening when he saw a line of computers along the wall, all lit with streams of data he didn't understand. He was more curious about the two people that he saw sitting at the computers, facing him with amused smirks.

"…Kevin? Ash?"

"Don't look so surprised, Sam," Ash said. "You've been in my neck of the woods before. Or should I say, my neck of Heaven?"

"Uh, right," Sam agreed. Aside from the shock of seeing dead people, he was more surprised at the combination of the two of them. "I just…never pictured you two as being friends."

"Ash is awesome," Kevin smirked. "He taught me how to use Heaven's wifi and how to sneak into other people's heavens."

"Once you got down the whole string-theory thing down…"

"And being fluent in Enochian…"

"Anything's possible," Ash finished. "So, that's why we brought you here. You want a way out of Heaven, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam said, catching himself stumbling yet again. "But how do you know that?"

"Dude," Kevin said, giving Sam the look of "I can't believe you just asked that…You're here without Dean. That means that either he finds a way to bring you back or you find a way back to him. It's really not hard to figure out which one you want."

Sam walked over towards the computers, setting down the beer in his hand without opening it. "Is it possible, though? Get out of Heaven?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Ash scoffed in mock-offense. "Leave it to the masters. We'll find you a way out of here."

Sam shook his head, sitting down at one of the spare computers. "I'm not sitting around and doing nothing," he stated. "I'm looking too."

"You know Enochian?" Kevin asked.

"No…"

"You know how to use Heaven's wifi?" Ash inserted.

"How hard can it be…?"

"Took me a month to learn it," Kevin said. "And I know you don't want to be here long enough to get it down."

"Then what can I do?" Sam finally asked.

"I'm gonna give you a rough map of Heaven and a compass," Ash said. He pulled a pen out of a cup and began drawing straight lines and rectangles all across the paper. When Sam looked over his shoulder, Ash briefly acted peeved, but he didn't say anything.

"I don't walk the halls of Heaven—_ever_," Ash continued as he continued drawing and labeling wings of Heaven. "I just hop right into people's heavens and stay there for a while."

"I can guess why," Sam said lowly. "I just talked to Bobby Singer a while ago. He had to break out of his personal heaven to help us with something." Sam thought back to that time and about the letter that Bobby wrote to him after the whole incident of breaking Metatron free. Bobby said he was proud of him, but what would he think now? And more importantly, what was Bobby's punishment for helping them? For roaming the halls of Heaven and assisting in the escape of one of the most dangerous and most hated angels in existence? "Ash, you haven't kept up with him, have you?"

"Afraid not," he said. "Figured I'd let him have time to get adjusted to his new home before I break in. I can try to reach him while you're out searching if you want me to."

"That'd be great if you could, thanks."

"You got it. Now, first thing's first. Heaven is like a gigantic, infinitely large, office building. As soon as you exit my heaven, you're going to wind up in a hallway. From what I gather, it's hallway 'J72.' And don't ask me about the name, because I have no clue. "

"Where's the nearest exit?"

Ash took in a breath. "It's all the way in K1. Which is probably…50 miles away, by earthly standards."

Honestly, Sam didn't view that as such a bad thing. "Considering how infinite Heaven is, I'm okay with that distance."

"Except you're missing another detail," Kevin inserted. "As soon as you open that door, every angel in Heaven is going to be looking for you. You've gotta stroll out in the open hallway of Heaven with everyone looking for you for fifty miles."

Alright, that definitely put a damper on things. Cas told him how Bobby managed to make it: he opened all the doors in his hallway, got everyone riled up, and set them loose on the angels while he made a break for it. He supposed he could do the same thing, but he doubted the angels would fall for the same trick twice. He had to come up with some other method to not be captured…

He had an idea. It was unbelievably stupid, but it was the best chance he had.

"Okay, so I have the map. What about the compass?"

"Go northeast the whole time. But the compass might get wacky once the angels realize what you're following so…"

"So, don't trust the compass anyway," Sam sighed.

"It's Heaven—you can't expect to escape it that easily."

Again, that was something Sam already knew, but he didn't care. "As long as it's possible to escape, I can face whatever else comes my way." And now for that stupid idea that he had. "I need a knife."

"Behind the bar—grab what you need. Can't say Heaven's provided us with angel blades…"

"Any knife is fine," Sam said.

While Ash continued outlining a map, Kevin turned around in his office chair and stared at Sam. He was obviously trying to decipher whatever plan he was concocting. Sam had a feeling that his plan was so ridiculous and stupid that Kevin's brilliant mind wouldn't even consider it. But then something clicked in his eyes. "You can't be serious," Kevin said.

"Deathly," Sam half-joked. He didn't smile as he put the knife in his jacket. "Excuse me if I don't say my plan out loud—I don't want the angels to hear it."

"You think angels can hack into our system?" Kevin scoffed.

"This is Heaven," Sam reminded him. "And my escape is going to be hard enough as it is."

"Especially since we can't give much guidance," Ash inserted. He rose from his seat, brushing his hair behind his shoulder like he had done a hundred times at the roadhouse. "Map's finished. Follow it best you can, and if you get lost, well…Don't get caught. We'll try and keep them off your tails."

Sam accepted the map, reading it over and putting it in his mind. "Thanks," he said to both young men. With Ash, he didn't really know what to say—he was in his debt again. And Kevin was the same, but there was something else…

"Kevin…" He swallowed back a lump that had been threatening to appear in his throat ever since he saw his friend. He couldn't help but remember Gadreel, and how he used Sam to murder his friend.

"Dude," Kevin said sympathetically. "Don't worry about it. I know it wasn't you. You never have to apologize for that. Now you _will _have to apologize if you stick around here any longer and leave Dean to mourn. You know he's doing the self-pity and guilt thing as we speak, so get out of here. Alright?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Got it." He got up out of the chair and started walking, though he only made it halfway across the heavenly roadhouse when Ash called after him.

"Heaven's changed since you been here last, so don't even trust the map completely," he warned. "There's gonna be roadblocks I can't see coming. Probably some old memories will try to get in your way and convince you to stay here. Are you ready to face that?"

Sam found the concern laughable, which was rare for him, considering he was such an empathetic, caring person. "Don't worry about that," he said to Ash and Kevin. "Nothing's going to keep me away from Dean."

He opened the emergency exit and stepped outside into the bright white hallway. And then he picked a direction and he ran in it.

There wasn't a moment to lose.

*…*…*…*…*…*

When Castiel, Jody, and Charlie returned to the bunker an hour later, they found Sam and Dean on the floor of the bedroom. Because none of them there for Sam's death at the hands of Jake, they didn't realize that Dean was cradling his younger brother the same way he had years ago. Even the stab in the back paralleled that which Sam received way back then. This time, though, it didn't come because Dean couldn't get to Sam in time. It was because he _did _get to Sam that his younger brother was dead.

None of them knew what to say. It was all too sudden—too random. If they had just been there, they could have helped, somehow. Charlie automatically began to tear up, lifting a hand to her lips to hush whatever cries she would unleash. Jody hesitantly reached out a hand towards Dean, but she then withdrew it and curled it by her side.

Castiel, on the other hand, couldn't stop himself from speaking. "Sam…" he uttered quietly. Dean only stiffened and held his brother more tightly at the potential interruption. Or, perhaps he feared criticism. However, Castiel wouldn't critic Dean for anything. He knew better than anyone how much Dean cared for his younger brother—how hard he fought to protect him. Whatever Dean was telling himself was far worse than anything anyone could say.

"Dean," he said then. "I wouldn't worry. Neither of you have a habit of staying deceased…"

Dean lifted his head out of Sam's hair, furrowing his eyebrows and staring at Castiel with swollen red eyes. "Can you bring him back? Please?"

With his diminishing grace, Castiel wasn't sure that he could. But he still knelt down next to the pair and set his hand atop Sam's brunet hair. As his eyes closed in focus, he realized that he couldn't do anything. "Sam's soul is…out of my reach."

"What does that mean?" Jody asked quietly. Dean hardly seemed to notice her presence, but his eyes echoed the same message.

"I'm not entirely sure," Cas confessed to the whole group. "It's possibly connected to my grace not being sufficient. Or…"

"Come on, Cas, out with it," Dean snapped tiredly.

"It could be another connection to the Mark of Cain. The deal Cain originally made was to send his brother to Heaven. It's possible that the deal also locked Abel's soul in Heaven, so maybe Sam…"

"…Maybe Sam's trapped there. Forever," he finished. Dead, forever. He curled his hand tighter, grasping the back of Sam's jacket so tightly that his fist almost started to tremble. _This is my fault. I couldn't pull it together and now Sammy's…_

"It's not hopeless," Castiel inserted. "As Charlie always states, there's nothing that you two cannot do."

"Yeah!" she agreed at the mention of her name.

"Yeah," Dean said quietly, though his tone was disbelieving. He changed his hold on Sam, grabbing Sam underneath his armpits and starting to hoist him up. The bed was just a few feet behind him, so he dragged Sam into the bed and laid him flat. He recalled laying Sam down in that same position, before he sold his soul to the crossroads demon.

_Even if I do bring him back, _Dean thought, _how do I possibly make up for this? I killed him. __**I **__did that. I was supposed to protect him._

"Dean," Jody called from the doorway.

Dean stood upright, but only after brushing some of Sam's hair off his forehead. He _was _going to find a way to be together with his brother again. Staying apart from him wasn't going to make up for his sin. "Sorry, guys," Dean said then, his voice soft. "But I wanna be alone with my brother for a little."

Of course, the three of them knew what happened the last time they left the bunker. Sam wound up dead. But Dean _did _have a right to be alone to grieve the death of his brother."Alright," Charlie responded in sympathy. "We're going out to the library. Come out when you're ready."

Just as quickly as they appeared, all three left, giving Dean the moments he desired with his brother. There wasn't much they discussed during that time, but the conversation struck a chord with him. If Sam was trapped in Heaven with no chance of escape, then Dean saw only one possibility. He'd have to take the party to him.

*…*…*…*…*…*

Sam wasn't sure how long he was running. All he knew was that he turned where he was supposed to, followed the compass the best he could, and sort of stuck to Ash's map. He heard a lot of commotion in the hallways surrounding him, but he hadn't actually _seen _any angels yet. But he knew that the moment he stopped running, they would catch up to him, send him back to his own personal heaven, and lock it tight.

And then Sam began to realize what Ash meant when he said that Heaven was unstable. Despite the highly organized and unnaturally clean hallways, his surroundings began to blur. He had to slow himself down, keeping a hand against the wall as he stumbled forward. This wasn't any connection to the Mark of the Fear of Abel—this was just typical disorientation and dizziness. Vertigo, almost.

He closed his eyes for a few moments, standing still out of fear of collapsing. All he needed was a moment to pull himself together. Hopefully by then, Heaven would reorient itself and he could keep running.

He breathed in, then out. In again, out again. When he opened his eyes, he was relieved to see that his vision was fully clear. What he _wasn't _relieved to see was a figure in front of him. At first, he thought that an angel caught up to him in his moments of hesitation. Then he saw the typical plaid shirt, jacket, and jeans of his brother.

Dean was there in front of him. Standing there, staring at him with a small, sad smile on his lips.

"Dean, no," he whispered. "You didn't…"

The elder brother met his eyes and retained that sad smile. His next phrase was spoken just as softly.

"Hiya, Sammy…."

Sam stared at the figure in front of him in utter disbelief. _No. Absolutely not, _he thought in pure denial. Sam thought if he blinked hard enough, Dean would disappear from his sight. It would all be a hallucination and he would realize his brother wasn't really there with him.

But even after he blinked multiple times and even rubbed his eyes, Dean was still there.

"Dude, it's me," Dean said, taking a small step forward. Sam didn't change his expression or his closed off stance. "C'mon, don't gimme that look," he said in a gentler, pleading voice. "Don't you do that."

"You shouldn't be here," Sam automatically said.

"What, and you think _you _should?"

"What are you doing here, Dean?"

"I'm here to stay. Cas and I couldn't get you back to earth—something about your soul having a lock on it."

Sam kept his mouth shut. _If my soul has a lock on it, then how am I able to escape Heaven from this side? _Maybe Ash and Kevin didn't know about the lock. No, that was stupid; those two knew just about everything on this side. He _knew _he was able to make it out.

"Well Cas was wrong," Sam stated. "I know for a fact that I can get out of here. Exit's this way—let's get out together" He stood up taller and started to walk past Dean, who just looked stunned.

Right when Sam was about to pass him, Dean reached out and latched onto his arm. "What?" Sam asked, glancing over and seeing how tense Dean was.

"Angels," he said. "Don't you hear 'em coming?"

"Of course I do, Dean, that's why we have to move!" Sam hissed.

"We can't out run 'em, Sammy! We gotta duck back into your heaven or something—make a game plan."

There were two things that set Sam off. The first was that he already had a game plan, so there was no need to strategize. The second, more relevant, was that going back to his heaven was like walking into his own prison cell.

And Dean wanted him to go there.

"Sammy, we gotta move!" Dean said more frantically.

Sam reached into his jacket, pulling out the knife that he grabbed from Ash's heaven. Dean watched him with a confused gaze.

"Sam?"

He removed his arm from Dean's, pulling up the sleeve of his jacket to his elbow. "Sam, we don't have time for this!" Sam drew the knife across his forearm, drawing a circle. "Sam, what're you-" Dean didn't bother finishing the sentence; he saw what Sam carved into his own skin: an angel ward.

"That's not gonna work, genius! You can't expel angels to Heaven when you're already in Heaven!"

"That's where you're wrong." Sam winced, completing the task. He tucked the bloody blade back into his jacket. "I remember what happened at the hospital, after I was dying from the trials. Even with Heaven closed, the ward sent them away. You would know that too…if you were really Dean."

The man in plaid didn't have time to protest. Sam lifted his arm and prepared to slam it down on the ward. However, his hand never touched his arm; another grasped it partway down and stopped him.

"Hold on there, sport. I don't think you want to do that right now."

Sam's eyes widened as he looked over to his right. There stood an angel—one he thought was dead for years. "Gabriel?" he said in shock.

The angel Gabriel only smiled and nodded at him. At that moment, they both heard the noise Sam feared most: angels coming their way. Before he could react, Gabriel grabbed him by the shoulder and the two of them were gone away, out of the hallway and away from the angels that pursued them.

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Author: Ah, I love bringing back old characters! Ash and Kevin could totally be friends in Heaven, and Gabriel seems to be alive in the show, so bringing him back to this story is easy. **

**Thanks to everyone for the feedback last chapter—I see I stirred up quite a reaction with that last chapter. As evil as it sounds, I enjoy messing with your emotions ;). I look forward to continuing that trend with future chapters. **

**Peanut**


	8. Chapter 8: Backup

**Author's note: If you skipped over the last chapter due to the warning, here's what you missed: Sam finds himself in his heaven, but he is quickly transported to Ash's heaven, where he and Kevin formulate a plan to help Sam escape Heaven and get back to Earth. While Sam is running through the open halls of Heaven, he sees a fake Dean and fears the worst for a few moments. However, he quickly realized that the Dean he saw was an illusion sent to throw him off track. At that moment, the angel Gabriel arrives and whisks Sam out of the open halls of Heaven to someplace safer. **

**In the meantime, Cas, Charlie, and Jody see that Sam is dead and Dean despairs. This chapter, we'll see more how the group copes with Sam's death. **

**Without further ado, here's the new chapter!**

Chapter Eight: Backup

Dean and Cas arrived at the house of Oliver Price at 7:07 at night. When Oliver didn't open his door right away, Dean thought that the old timer went to bed. He wasn't even sure that Oliver would help them willingly, judging by Cas's last encounter with the mind-reader. But Dean wasn't going to take no for an answer.

When Oliver opened the door, he had a look of resigned dismay. "Yes, yes, Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel. You want me to call to Sam's heaven so you can talk to him and scold him. And if I don't, well, there's no need to think of torturing me _that _much, Dean."

"Um, sorry," Dean blinked. He hadn't even realized just how menacing his thoughts were until Oliver read them and took in the threat. But of course, whatever threats he had been thinking held meaning; he would do absolutely anything to get Sammy back to him. That was why after he calmed down and began to think more rationally, he went out and talked to Cas, Charlie, and Jody. Charlie was determined to hit the books to see if she could find _anything _on how to unlock a soul from Heaven. Jody was passionate about doing whatever Dean needed of her, and Cas recalled a person who he thought could help.

Oliver Price, a man who apparently had a hotline to Heaven. He called through to Bobby a while back and that worked, so Dean wanted Oliver to call Sam so that they could make a came plan. They were fighting on separate sides, but he had hope that they could break Sam out of Heaven somehow. While he and Cas took care of that, Charlie was researching and Jody was keeping watch over Sam. The last thing they needed was anything happening to his body.

"Let's get it over with," Oliver said, stepping aside and ushering the man and angel inside. He shut the door behind them, walking over to the dining room table and setting up the candles. "I'm assuming that progress was made with the Mark of Cain?"

Dean cast Castiel a look. "How's he know about that?"

"When Sam and I were here, we fully explained the situation to Bobby. Since Oliver was our…receiver, he heard everything."

"Sam did something stupid and got himself killed," Dean said simply, though his thoughts surely conveyed more details than his words did. He avoided Oliver's gaze and sat himself down in the chair. "And now his soul's out of Cas's reach so we gotta talk to him and make a plan."

"It should be easy to get through to him," Oliver said to Dean's unspoken thought. "As long as you have something of Sam's with you."

Dean reached into the bag that was by his waist. "Will this work?" he asked, pulling out Sammy's laptop. While Oliver eyed it, Dean thought back to how Sam was always so possessive of his laptops. He never wanted Dean on his laptop, mostly out of fear that Dean would download some virus because of the websites he visited. That, and Dean was hardly gentle with the technology since he was what Sam considered "technologically challenged."

"It'll work," Oliver nodded. He grabbed the laptop and set it on the table, not too nicely. Dean flinched at it, but he didn't bother saying anything. Oliver too his seat, and Cas took his by Dean's right side. Oliver silently outstretched his hands, and since Cas did this before, he knew to reach out and grab the hands of the people on either side of him. Dean quickly figured it out and followed suit.

Dean couldn't hear anything at first. Judging by Cas's expression, he couldn't either. After a few seconds, Oliver broke the silence. "I can see what his heaven looks like…It's like a large dining room surrounded by books."

"The bunker." Dean's heart skipped a beat. _That _was Sam's heaven? Not Stanford? Not somebody else's Thanksgiving dinner?

"There's a phone that's ringing," Oliver continued. "But there's nobody in sight to answer it."

"Okay? So that means…what, exactly?"

Oliver took his hands back. He set them on the table, wringing them and staring at them instead of lifting his gaze. "It means," he finally sighed, "that Sam's not in his heaven. Maybe he's not even in Heaven at all."

*…*…*…*…*…*

When the bright light faded, Sam saw the area in front of him clearly. It was no longer the white halls of Heaven. Instead, it was—

"The Eifel Tower? Seriously?" Sam glanced over at Gabriel, who simply shrugged at him.

"I just picked a random heaven," he stated. "In case you didn't notice, we had to get out of there quick. That Dean really tripped you up."

"Not really…" Sam tried. He suspected from the very start that it wasn't Dean, but what was he supposed to do? If there was even a slight chance it was him, he had no choice but to give him a chance.

"Didn't your buddies warn you that Heaven would show you things to slow you down? And then in the first hour, you fall for that."

"Was that how long I was running?" In some ways, it felt longer than that, but it also felt shorter. He was nowhere near his destination…

"Doesn't matter—you're not getting out, kid, not that way."

Sam immediately felt defensive. Who was Gabriel to tell him what he was and wasn't going to do? Gabriel may have been on their side in the end, but Sam could never forget the torture that the angel inflicted on him at the mystery spot. And besides that, he wasn't even positive Gabriel was alive until now. Cas said he had a run in with him, but even Cas doubted that was the real Gabriel.

"Yoo-hoo, earth to Sam," Gabriel called. Sam suddenly realized his personal space was being invaded, so he took a quick step back.

"How do you know what Ash and Kevin said to me? What are you doing here? And if I don't get out that way, then how-"

"One, I always keep an eye on the Winchesters," Gabriel answered, holding up one finger as he answered the first question. At the second question, he had two fingers up. "Two, I'm here to help, genius."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons. Let's just leave it at that."

"Not a chance."

Gabriel frowned. He stared off at the tall monument, as if considering what secrets to divulge. "You didn't hear this whole spiel that I gave to Lucifer, but here it is in a nutshell. I'm on humanity's side. And you two—you're on their side too. When you're not selfishly obsessed with damning the world to save each other, that is."

Sam let the comment slide. "Alright, fine. You gonna help me escape Heaven?"

"Well," Gabriel snorted, "you definitely can't do it without me. You were goin' towards one of the angel exits. Typically, that'd work, but your soul's a special case. That stunt you pulled letting Dean kill you put a brand on your soul. You're locked up tight in Heaven."

Suddenly, Sam felt tired. He was good at rolling with the punches, but escaping out of Heaven with every angel after him, running for 50 miles was already tough. Now he knew that escape wasn't even possible. He saw a local bench and he sat on it, sighing as he ran a hand over his weary face. "So, we gotta find a way to break the seal first." _Terrific. _

"_Or _we take a different route. You remember back when Heaven was first locked up—how dead people were denied access for a little while and were trapped in the Veil?"

"Yeah…" Hard to forget, considering Kevin was one of those people.

"That's your ticket out. That's the only door that's unlocked for you. Now, I can get you there no problem, but…"

Of course, there was a "but." Life was never simple with the Winchesters. "What?"

"There's something else you might want to do in Heaven before you leave." At first, Sam thought Gabriel was completely and utterly wrong, but his next sentence gave Sam reason to pause. "Cas's grace is here, and you can get it for him. You're the _only _one who can."

*…*…*…*…*…*

Bobby Singer thought there was nothing better than enjoying a cool beer in his easy chair. After years of hard work and heartache, it was about time he got a break. He didn't know how long he was sitting in his chair for, but it was long enough for him to be content and at peace. There were no more hunts to worry about, no more chance of anybody getting hurt.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He still had plenty of connections to living people, but he was somehow at peace with the knowledge that they could be fighting. The people he did know were fully capable of defending and taking care of themselves.

At least, that's what he thought before his favorite song was interrupted on the radio. He heard the static start softly before it cackled loudly enough to take over. A warbly voice came from the other side.

"Bobby Singer? You awake in there?"

_No way. Not a chance in… _"Ash?" he asked critically. There was no way Ash from Harvelle's Roadhouse was coming through his radio. It didn't make any sense at all.

"_Hey, you got it on your first try! Always on your game, huh Bobby?"_

"How'd you…?" Bobby started, leaning forward in his seat as he set his beer down. After just a moment, he decided it was better not to finish that sentence. "You know what? I don't want to know. What's up, Ash?"

"_Well, to put it simply, I need your help "_

"Okay…"

"_Sam Winchester's in Heaven and tryin' to escape, but he completely disappeared from my radar. And since you're-"_

"Wait. Wait," Bobby ordered. He was completely focused now, uncaring that his rest was interrupted. "_Sam's _in Heaven? How?"

"I don't-" Static interrupted the message, making things nearly indecipherable. "-Lost with angels on his-find him before-you help us?"

"Boy, I hardly got ten words outta that," Bobby said. "Your connection just fritzed."

"My end's-your end is-gimme some-Bobby?"

There, in that last bit of static, Bobby thought he heard something. He thought that he heard a completely different voice. "Hold on," he said. "Gotta put you on hold." He reached forward, twisting the knob to the right. The faint whirling noise reassured him that he was changing away from the static and getting to a better station.

"_Why's this so hard?" _a familiar voice said through the speakers.

"_Don't you curse at me, Dean Winchester,_" another voice warned. "_Something's blocking our connection to Bobby this time around…"_

Bobby didn't know what to say. He didn't recognize the second voice, but he most definitely knew the first one. "…Line's freed up now, boy," Bobby said.

"_Bobby_," Dean breathed in relief. "_It's good to hear your voice."_

"Yeah, you too, Dean." Bobby felt himself get a little choked up, just like Dean was on the other line. He had been thinking about being content in Heaven, but now that he heard his boy's voice, all that he felt was this desperate longing to see both him and his brother. "Lemme guess…you need my help with something?"

"_It's Sam, Bobby. He's up there in Heaven and I can't reach him."_

Once more, Bobby wasn't sure what to say. Or what to do. "Dean, I've been in my heaven reading fine literature since you boys returned me here. I don't know how to get a hold of Sam…"

"_That's not entirely true,"_ the low voice of the angel Castiel said. _"You left your heaven before, to help me with Metatron."_

"Excuse me?" _I think I'd remember leaving my heaven to help with some kind of transformer. _"Not sure what you're talkin' 'bout, Cas.

"_I see…_" Cas continued. "_This was their punishment."_

"You're gonna have to explain for me to get any of this," Bobby stated, trying to stay calm despite his confusion. However, there were so many things being thrown at him at one time that he was having a hard time juggling it all.

"_Sam and I communicated with you before. We needed your help to break an angel out of jail. You escaped your heaven, rallied others, and caused a large enough distraction for us to accomplish our mission. But your punishment must have been a memory wipe. The angels took away any memories of you helping us, and that you even spoke to Sam._"

Now that just ticked him off. He did something successful, no, even more important than that, he spoke to **Sam**, and those angels dared to take those memories away from him? It was the worst thing they could have done to take away a memory that precious.

"Why's Sam in Heaven?" Bobby asked, pushing his emotions to the side as he got back to business.

Neither person on the other end wanted to tell him the truth. It was convenient for them that a phone in the kitchen started to go off. "Balls," Bobby swore. He was incredibly popular today, and if he heard any other earth shattering news, he was going to scream. He stood up, leaving the radio alone as he picked up the phone. "_What?_"

"_You changed the station,_" Ash said. "_Bobby, I don't think you know just how important—"_

"Excuse you," Bobby snorted. "I've got Dean on the other line telling me about Sam too."

"_Dean? Hey, put me on speakerphone!" _

Bobby hated being told what to do, but he complied. "Ash, you're on speaker."

"_Ash?_" Dean repeated on the radio.

"_Hey, Dean!" _Ash greeted. _"Let me get you caught up on the situation. Sam arrived in his heaven, I brought him into mine, and pointed him towards the nearest exit. Kevin and I—"_

"_You and Kevin?" _Dean questioned.

"_We've been trying to keep the angels off his tail. Tried to lead 'em astray and get them chasing random particles of heavenly-whatever. But Sam disappeared and I called Bobby here to see if he could help. Guessing that's the reason you called too."_

"Hold on," Bobby said them. He hated to be the downer, but there was something that they needed to address right away. "I'm _not _the right man for this case." The silence that followed that comment made him uneasy. How could these boys think that he was the right person to try and find Sam? Ash was a freaking genius, and Dean had some weird brotherly connection where he could tell things about Sam that nobody could.

"Bobby, of course you're the right guy…" Dean tried.

Bobby hung his head, ashamed. "I've been out of the game for a while, boys," he said in a weary tone. "Even if you did give me something to do out there, I don't know I could do it right now."

"_That's what you said right before you helped me break into Heaven's jail," _Castiel stated. "_You _are _capable. And even if you weren't, we need all the help we can get to get Sam out of there._"

Bobby'd have to take Cas's word on that one, considering he didn't remember any of that happening. He closed his eyes as he tried to focus. Alright, whether he felt capable or not, he had to jump off the insecurity train. His boy needed him.

"Alright," he finally said. "What do you boys want me to do?"

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Sorry to disappear for a couple weeks; I won't bore you with the details, but life was insanely busy. The only reason I'm publishing this chapter right now is because I do feel bad about disappearing; if I wasn't gone so long, I'd hold onto the chapter and tweak it a lot more because I'm not really happy with the way that it turned out. But if YOU like it, please let me know! **

**Also, look at my other Supernatural story "We Play Monsters" if you like teenage Winchesters. I'm also hoping to put out a oneshot sometime set in Season 1 pretty soon. **

**Peanut**


	9. Chapter 9: Heaven's Trials

Chapter Nine: Heaven's Trials

"Alright, what do you boys want me to do?" Bobby Singer asked both his phone and radio. The situation was crazy, but he was caught up to speed enough to understand it was necessary to jump into action. Sam was stuck in Heaven with all of the wardens on his tail. Whatever Dean, Ash, and their company had in mind, he was willing to follow through with their plan.

He waited for a few seconds, listening for either side to speak up and give him the plan. The only thing he heard from the radio was the constant, soft cackling. From the phone, nothing. "Did my electronics just break?" he asked, half to the devices and half to himself.

"_Still here,"_ Dean said.

"_Same,"_ Ash added. _"I had a plan for Sam, and that was basically to run as fast as he could to the exit. Kevin and I were gonna cover his tracks the best we could, but now that we lost him…"_

"And you think **I **can find him?" Bobby asked skeptically.

"_Yeah, that's probably not realistic…"_

"_At least you had _some _idea of a plan," _Dean said the radio. _"…I got nothing."_

"**Nothing?**" Bobby repeated. He shook his head in disbelief, lifting his free hand to his forehead. "You gotta be kidding me. You idjits call me for help and you got _no _notion of a plan? It sounds like you expect me to pull off a miracle."

"_You've done it hundreds of times before," _Dean said. "_Please Bobby, think of _something. _You're the one chance we got to get Sam out of there…"_

It wasn't like Dean to plead. Bobby already knew that Dean was desperate, but that last bit let him know just how badly Dean needed him. He sat down in his easy chair, dangling the phone in one hand as he sat in silence. The boy wanted a miracle? Those boys always did ask way too much of him…but he'd deliver. He always did.

"Dean, you do some research on your side. Try to figure out where Sam's soul might turn up on earth when he's back."

As soon as Dean heard that tone, he knew that Bobby Singer the Hunter was back in business. "_Okay,_" he agreed, trusting Bobby completely. "_Can you tell me the plan?_"

"I'm callin' in some favors to a bunch a dead hunters," Bobby said. He smirked, mostly to himself. "That's the funny thing about dyin'. You don't know when it's gonna happen, so you don't have time to cash in all the favors people owe you. I'm gettin' every hunter in Heaven out there to search for Sam. And Ash?"

"_Yeah?"_

"You're callin every single person who ever walked in that roadhouse. Cash in everything for this, you got it?"

"_Got it._"

They didn't need any goodbyes. All of them had jobs to do, and they were gonna get them done. As soon as the radio disconnected and Ash hung up, Bobby started dialing.

Time to finally get this rescue moving.

*…*…*…*…*…*

Sam knew that standing out in Heaven's hallway was the most dangerous place he could possibly be. Even with Gabriel on his side, his presence could only go unnoticed for so long. It was Gabriel who persuaded him to stand outside of this person's heaven, in the name of finding Cas's grace.

There were three trials. Three stupid trials, just like the ones he completed on earth to lock up Hell. Three, the same number of trials that sent Heaven's angels plummeting to earth. He was really starting to hate the number three, but given that it was a holy number, he knew he'd be seeing a lot of it for the rest of his life.

Fortunately for him, two of the three trials were already done.

The trials to unlock Cas's grace were really straightforward. There were three heavens that Sam had to escape from. The first, obviously, was his own. The second was a friend's heaven (Ash's). The final one was the heaven of the person that he loved most. There were plenty of people he loved. Dean told him a hundred times over not to get attached to people, because hunters never stayed in one place long enough to commit to anyone or anything other than the hunt. Sam, always the rebellious one—always the more sympathetic one—didn't listen. He thought of his college friends and all the people he and Dean met along the way. Ellen, Jo, Chuck, Kevin, Charlie…He never expected to have so many loved ones in the hunting world, but he did.

However, when Gabriel brought up this last trial, Sam didn't have to go through a list of people trying to figure out which deceased person he loved most. The answer was far too obvious for him to question.

He swallowed and gripped the handle on the door tightly. It was now or never. If he stalled any longer, the angels would be on his heels. Turning the knob, he revealed the university of Stanford and stepped into the quad. It was a beautiful area with trees strategically placed for shade and archways on display so everyone would know what a prestigious school it was. Sam didn't care about that. He nervously stepped through the door and closed it behind him, slowly making his way towards a park bench he sat on a hundred times before. Within thirty seconds, the seat next to him was occupied.

He kept staring at his lap. He didn't want to look up. He didn't want to see—

"Hi, Sam," the blonde beside him said gently.

When he finally looked over, he saw her beautiful blond hair draped over her shoulder in somewhat frizzy curls. If he tried to untangle that beautiful mess, he knew he would be in trouble. Instead of reaching over and embracing the one he loved most, he locked his jaw and met her gaze.

"Hi Jess," he whispered.

Jessica Moore was as beautiful as ever. Even in just jeans and a Stanford T-shirt, she shone like the sun. Sam had a hard time even looking at her. Every time he did, all he could think about was her dying because of him. She didn't know the truth of it. All she knew was that she was somehow lifted to the ceiling and that was where she burned.

"It's good to see you," Jess said quietly. "But I wish you weren't here."

So, Jess did understand that she was dead. Sam wasn't sure if that made his life easier or not. "I…right back at you," he managed. He cleared his throat, staring across the quad at a random game of catch some students were playing. It was too far off to hinder their conversation.

Jess swung her legs on the bench. Sam could tell that she was having a hard time looking at him too. Maybe she _did _know about everything. Maybe she knew about what he became and—

"Did it hurt?" she asked, hesitating and speaking slowly.

"Did what hurt?" he responded without thought.

"How you died…"

Sam couldn't help but pause there. Leave it to Jess to be concerned about him even in heaven. "No," he lied, ignoring the memories of pain and the knife in his back. "No, it was quick. Unexpected." _Lies. More and more of them. When have I _ever _been honest with her? _Curling his fist, he contemplated asking her the same question. He already knew the answer and didn't want to hear it; he knew she died in agony and terror.

At the picture of Jess burning on the ceiling, Sam lifted a hand to his mouth. Was it even possible to vomit in Heaven? It certainly felt like it. Heaven was supposed to be a place without fear, sorrow, or pain, but at that moment, all of it plagued his soul. It pierced him to the center of his being.

Before he even realized it, he was crying. He wiped a hand over his face to try and take away the tears, but they quickly reappeared in greater number and force.

He completely lost it.

"I'm so sorry!" Sam sobbed. He turned himself to the side and threw his arms around Jess, who was so stunned she didn't hug him back at first. He didn't care. He gripped her as tightly as he could, burying his head into her tangled blonde hair as he kept murmuring his apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jess…"

Jess gingerly held him back, placing a hand on the back of his head as she embraced him. "Shhh," she said into his ear. "Shh…"

Even after all those years of being apart from her, Sam continued to love her. He had his doubts, but seeing her now, he knew why this was the final trial: Leaving Jess again after she was taken away from him so brutally was going to be the most difficult thing he ever did.

He sniffed, taking in the fragrance of her fruity shampoo. She specifically used that brand because she knew how much he loved it. Even in heaven, she wore the smell he loved.

"Jess," he mumbled. He cleared his throat again, slowly pulling away from her. He kept his hands on her shoulders, unable to completely release her. He had to, though. Dean was… "I'm _so _sorry…."

Jess understood that this was a different "sorry" than before. She placed her hand on the back of his neck, toying with his hair. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

"I have to," he said miserably. "I can't stay here, Jess. I gotta…" _Gotta what? Escape Heaven and go back to earth? How does a normal person even react to that? _

Of course, Jess dealt with a lot of secrecy and unsaid things in their relationship. She always had patience, knowing that one day, things would finally be pulled out into the open. "Will you at least tell me what you've done the past few years?" she pleaded. "Tell me that you're happy, Sam…"

There was that question again. One of Sam's teachers had told him everything was fine as long as he was happy, but Sam was never happy. He was in physical pain, afraid, and stressed most of the time. But he had his brother by his side. He had his family who he could depend on and he did something meaningful with his life.

"Life," he chuckled as a tear slipped down his cheek. "…It has its ups and downs, but I _am _happy." He was happy saving people and hunting things. The family business. "My life has meaning, and I need to get back to it."

"Sam." Jess turned completely to face him—or at least, as completely as she could since they were side-by-side on a park bench. "I love you. And I always will, but I need to know more than that. …Tell me everything."

When she looked at him head on, he looked off to the other side. He could hear just how serious she was, and how badly she needed answers. If he left her like this, she'd probably hate him. But if he told her what he did—who he became—she'd hate him anyway.

"Sam," she repeated, forceful even with her gentleness.

He cracked. He told her everything. Starting with the basics. Monsters and nightmares, demons and angels. Hunting, being cursed, trying to set things right…He even told her about the apocalypse that she had the pleasure of missing out on. He told her about the days he was most proud of; the days where everyone walked away alive except for the terrible monsters. But he also told her of the days he was most ashamed of. The days he was soulless and not caring about innocent people. The das he snapped at his loved ones and pushed them away in his own anger and frustration.

While telling her everything, he didn't look up at her at all. He didn't want to see her reaction. _You know that I'm a freak now, _he thought as he concluded his long recap of the past ten years. Now she knew the things that he was capable of and how merciless and cruel he had become.

This conversation was the reason he didn't want to visit her heaven. It wasn't because he was afraid he would be stuck there; he had enough reason to get out that he could leave even Jess behind. His greatest fear was that she would hate him for who he became.

The silence was deafening. When her voice finally broke through to him, he realized his surroundings weren't silent at all. The breeze was still blow, birds still chirping, and football players yelling in the distance. It was her voice and her words that brought him back to that reality and away from his nightmare.

"I always knew you were destined for great things, Sam Winchester," she said softly. She laughed once as she set a hand on Sam's leg. "I should have known you were out of my league."

Now _that _response was the exact opposite of what he expected. Didn't she hear everything he said? All the things he did?

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "I can still see half your face, you know." That was his cue to turn towards her. He did so slowly, keeping his gaze lowered at her knees and then gradually bringing them up to look at her soft expression. "You've always done what you think is right. And sometimes you were led astray by people pulling at you—I get that. But I know for a fact that you tried to fix everything. You don't even have to tell me and I know."

_I forgot just how much I love you_, Sam thought in awe. Jess always did know what to say. Sam was often a hopeful person, but whenever he was down, he was _really _down. Jess could speak two sentences and relieve everything he was feeling. It was that extreme kindness that drew him to her and prompted him to shop for an engagement ring. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her…But now, he had different goals. He couldn't take an "apple pie" life anymore.

"Even now," she continued, "you're trying to do what's right. Your brother's all alone out there, isn't he?"

Sam nodded faintly.

"Then it's time for you to get back to him," Jess declared. She rose to her feet, simultaneously reaching out to Sam and grabbing his. Even with his larger height and weight, she helped him rise to his feet. "The door you came in through is still there."

When he looked over to his left, he saw that there was indeed a white door underneath one of the archways. He hardly wanted to go towards it, though. Jess…actually accepted him. She still loved him. He was expecting her to scream at him and yell for him to leave and never come back. That would have made leaving so much easier. Jess held onto his hand and dragged him over to it with such vigor that he had a hard time believing she was sad to see him go.

Once they stood right in front of that door, she proved him wrong. She turned around and there were tears streaming down her face. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away, even if he was the one to make her cry. He almost did, but then she spoke up.

"I love you," she proclaimed. "I believe in you. Go do what you need to do."

Sam stared at her in complete awe. He couldn't find his voice to tell her how happy her words made him. Instead, he leaned forward and locked his lips with hers in a kiss. The last kiss he gave her was just a quick one before he went off to look for his dad with Dean. This time, he knew this was going to be a long goodbye, so he wanted to show her just how much he loved her.

Even in Heaven, though, they apparently needed to breathe. He pulled back, knowing that he needed to seize that opportunity to leave. When he put a hand on the knob, Jess spoke to him again.

"I'll be here," she said. "Next time you're here and you're here to stay, you better come back, Sam."

"Yes ma'am," he said respectfully. He sucked in a breath, feeling a blush creep into his lips. "Can I come back with a ring?"

"That's the only way I'll let you in," she joked sweetly. She held onto his hand longer, glimpsing down at it before she slowly released it. "Bye, Sam. Good luck."

"Yeah," he said dumbly. He looked up at her again, taking everything in before he twisted the handle. As white light poured into the room, he walked out, back into the open halls of Heaven. Once he was out, he knew he couldn't look back. He _had _to move on; the hallways were the most dangerous place for him to be. Fortunately for him, Gabriel plopped him down at that door and told him that he'd pick him up as soon as he was done.

"Gabriel?" Sam called, wiping the tears off his face as he prepared for the journey again. His voice echoed in the empty hallway.

There was no sign of the angel.

_He should be able to sense me out here. And he's been keeping an eye on me the whole time I've been here. Where is he…?_

"Gabriel?" he called again, louder. Then in anger. "_Gabriel?_"

Sam couldn't help but flashback to memories he had of Gabriel on Earth. Above all else, Gabriel was a trickster. Right now, Sam couldn't help but feel that he was the victim of some cruel joke. He hoped against that, glancing around the hallway to try and find the angel. Still, nothing.

_Gotta move, _he suddenly told himself. He glanced down the hall and started running, not entirely sure where he was trying to go. He had to find Gabriel somewhere, or try and find a way out of Heaven on his own.

"Gabriel!" he snapped in irritation. He heard a noise behind him and automatically feared the worst. The angels were suddenly on his tail and he was in a completely open area.

The best thing he could do, he decided, was to draw a warding sigil on his arm and then banish them. He tried it before, but that was when Gabriel showed up last time. As luck would have it, he was interrupted once more in his efforts. As he drew his knife, he suddenly felt something yank on his arm and pull him sideways. Along with the power of that tug and his focus on his task, he caught off guard enough that he gave in. He fell onto his side and landed not on the hard, bright white floor of Heaven's hallway, but on soft red carpet.

Still, he knew better than to get stuck on that detail. He picked himself up, taking in his surrounds as quickly as he could. It was just a typical living room. Nothing major or catastrophic, and no angels within his line of sight.

"You really shouldn't yell so loud out there," a female voice said from behind him. "You _wanna _get caught, Sam?"

Mid turn, Sam was going to ask the person who they were, but he didn't have to. As soon as he saw her face, he felt both relief and shock. "Jo?"

Jo Harvelle crossed her arms over her chest, smiling faintly at him in amusement. "Howdy, Sam. Welcome to my heaven."

It was hard to think of anything to say. After the roller coaster of a life that Sam experienced the days leading up to heaven and his time there, he was too tired to think of a proper response. He sighed, suddenly collapsing back onto the carpet and sitting there. "I thought you were an angel."

The young huntress softened. She moved to stand further back so that Sam wouldn't have to elevate his head as much to look at her. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "I just had to get a hold of you."

"How'd you even know that I was here?" His head spun, a headache forming. Once more, he was learning something new about Heaven: he could both cry and get headaches. What good was Heaven if he still felt like this?

"Basically every hunter in Heaven's looking for you thanks to an APB Bobby put out on you."

"Bobby?" _And how does Bobby know about this?_

"I think I'll just put you on the phone with him," Jo declared. Unfolding her arms, she picked up a phone from the end table. Sam couldn't help but wonder what this heaven was. It certainly wasn't the Roadhouse. Actually, it was too nice to be something associated with anyone in the hunting life. Maybe this was her home before her family's life was corrupted. Or a dear friend's house. Either way, he supposed it didn't really matter. This was Jo's heaven, so it must have been some place special to her.

"Bobby," Jo said into the phone. "I got him. Sam's safe."

Sam couldn't hear the other end of the line, despite how he strained to listen in. He knew that his line of work meant that death wasn't really a goodbye, but he was running into so many people from his past that it threw him for a loop.

"Yeah, that may be for the best," Jo was saying. Sam perked up, realizing that he missed out on what conversation he _could _hear when he was lost in his thoughts. "We'll be waiting." She set the phone down on the table, looking at the young man who was still sitting on the floor. "Sam, why don't you get up on a couch?" she said in the gentlest tone Sam ever heard her use.

"I shouldn't," he automatically responded. The angels would find him if he sat still for too long, and he didn't want to put Jo in their line of sight.

"You're not leaving," she declared. "Look, Bobby thinks Dean'll call him again soon, and when he does, he'll need to talk to you. Stay here until we get a call. And get some rest, would you? You look terrible."

Despite the circumstances, Sam couldn't help but smile. There was that tough persona of Jo's. "Yes ma'am," he murmured. He rose to his feet and walked over to the couch, just sitting up in the corner. He highly doubted that he would be able to fall asleep with so much on his mind, but he figured he would just close his eyes and pretend to make Jo happy.

And she was happy, because thirty seconds later, Sam was asleep.

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Note: A few more characters from the past added in. :) I love being able to incorporate some old favorites. Of course, the story's not over yet, so we'll be seeing a few more friends (and enemies) before it's all said and done. Like always, leave a review. I see all you people who silently follow without saying anything; just give me two sentences and I'll be a happy camper. **

**Peanut**


	10. Chapter 10: Alignment

Chapter Ten: Alignment

Oliver Price was eager to get Dean and Castiel out of his house, but he wasn't too eager to convey that sentiment. He had already tried once and he saw Dean start thinking about ways to kill him. No, Oliver was smart enough to know that Dean and Castiel were going to stay at his house as long as there was the smallest possibility they would need to get in contact with Heaven again. From what he heard, it sounded like there was no need to call again. Bobby and that Ash kid were working to search all the corners of Heaven for Sam.

Even so, Dean sat at the table with Sam's laptop open and a phone to his ear. The angel Castiel sat in the chair next to him, gazing at the screen with an unfocused expression. Oliver couldn't read the angel's mind; all that he saw were colors. But compared to the last time he saw Castiel, he could tell that the colors were dimmer than before.

"Castiel, you look like you could keel over and die," Oliver said bluntly as he set a mug of coffee there for him to drink.

Dean glanced away from the computer, picking up on the conversation.

"I am technically dying," Castiel stated calmly. He reached for the coffee and drank, though he made a face when he actually swallowed it.

"Go lie down for a while," Dean said. He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked over at Cas. Once he saw it for himself, he knew that it was time for Cas to get some rest. "I'll research for a while with Charlie." It was Charlie who he was on the phone with; their computers were synced as she presented her minimal findings to Dean and Castiel.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go," Dean insisted. He nodded his head towards the couch, lifting the phone back to his ear. "I'm still here, Charlie." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cas get up and walk over. Naturally, Oliver could hear Dean's thoughts and hear how worried he was over the angel, but worry was the tone of Dean's mind as a whole. Sam was trapped in Heaven, his best friend was dying—life wasn't fair. What was even more unfair to Oliver was that he was sucked into this crap. Again.

There was something else he could hear: for the past ten minutes or so, there was a weird buzzing in the room. Nothing harmful, and obviously nothing anybody else was noticing. _I'm old, _he reasoned. _And I'm tired. _He didn't bother worrying about it. Instead, he sat down at the table and listened in to Dean.

Throughout the whole thing, Dean wasn't ignorant about Oliver Price. He noticed him walking around, glaring at him and hoping he would go away. Every time he caught Oliver staring at him, he just thought of another way that he killed monsters. That surely let Oliver know that Dean wasn't leaving any time soon.

_"I think I found Sam's escape route,"_ Charlie said over the phone. That was a relief to Dean, since an hour ago, they had no clue how Sam was going to escape Heaven. He had a lock on his soul; that wasn't going to be easily shaken.

"How's he gonna get the lock removed?"

_"I don't think he is,"_ Charlie responded. _"There's absolutely no research to support the idea that the lock __**can **__be removed."_

"Charlie, there's no research period," he reminded her. She spent hours searching through material to save Sam, but there was absolutely nothing that told them how he could remove the lock or how he could escape. It all looked pretty hopeless.

_"Exactly,"_ she agreed. _"And that's why I started to actually _think _instead of just dig."_

Dean was too worn to figure out what she meant. "I'm not following, Charlie," he said tiredly.

_"Okay, well, think about all of our experiences with death and Heaven. After the angels fell, Heaven was closed off. Spirits were stuck in the veil and began to tear through it. You guys saw that happen with Kevin; he was one of many who ripped through the veil and had presence on Earth again."_

"Okay," Dean agreed, starting to possibly understand what she was saying. "So…"

_"So,"_ she continued, _"if they tore through on this side, there's probably rips in Heaven too. Sam's gonna find one of the breaks caused by the veil, go through it, and break through it here on Earth. It's the only possible way I can think of. Ask Cas and see if he agrees."_

Dean glanced over at Cas as he sat upright on the couch. He was fighting off coughs quietly, keeping a hand raised to his mouth. He hated to ask Cas this when he was obviously not doing well, but he called across the room and reiterated everything that Charlie told him. When he asked Cas if she was on the right track, he nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"That is a very viable solution," Castiel agreed. "But Sam's soul would quickly be pulled back into the veil and back to Heaven because of the lock. He'll need to reenter his body almost immediately in order to live again."

"Charlie, you hear that?" Dean asked into the phone.

_"Yeah…but, how are we supposed to figure out where Sam'll break through? He could do it anywhere on the globe, even in the middle of the Atlantic or something."_

"Well maybe he'll break through one of the spots that's already fragile. Any idea where those are?"

_"Jody's out here marking things on the map based on ghost sightings in the past year. There's too many places to count."_

"Wait a second," Dean partially interrupted. "Jody's out with you? Then who's with Sam?"

_ "Nobody right now…"_

"We gotta keep him in sight 24/7 till we fix this," he said sternly. He told them from the get-go that somebody needed to keep Sam's body in sight all the time. Yeah, he was paranoid, but they had enough trouble on their hands without somebody or something nabbing Sam's body. The angels were probably having a field day, knowing that they finally had Sam Winchester in Heaven. They would do just about anything to keep him with them. "Knowing our luck, _something_'_ll _happen. Tell Jody to take the map back with her and keep working."

"It doesn't matter," Castiel said from the couch. Dean glanced back to Cas in question. Since the phone was on speaker now, Cas had heard the question. He just shook his head slowly. "There's no way to know where Sam'll turn up. There are too many variables and we would need a definite answer. There's no possible method of achieving that answer."

Dean scratched the back of his head. They were so close to finding a real solution! There had to be _some _way to figure out where Sam was going to wind up.

_Or maybe there is no way, _his mind told him for the hundredth time. He lowered his gaze to the floor, furrowing his eyebrows deeply in irritation. Now wasn't the time to humor those kinds of thoughts. And anyway, they were wrong. If there was no way, he would make one. Really, it wasn't that complicated.

He shifted his weight while he stood on his feet. His negative, nagging thoughts weren't the only distracters. For a while now, he felt some kind of tugging feeling in his stomach. Something was trying to pull him in a different direction. Well, he was never one to distrust his gut, even if his gut was telling him to call Bobby back up even though he had nothing to report and there was no way Bobby could help more than he already was.

"Charlie, I'll call you back," he said to the phone. He didn't bother explaining; he just hung up after Charlie gave an "okay." "Oliver," Dean called then.

"Yeah, I know," Oliver sighed. "Give me the hat."

The two of them sat down at the table and sent a call up to Heaven. This time, the call went to one of Bobby's kitchen phones. The older hunter picked it up and spoke into it. "Hello," he said in his default phone- answering tone.

"Bobby," Dean said. That was all it took for Bobby to know who was on the other end.

_"Holy smokes,"_ Bobby said, sounding disbelieved.

"What?"

_ "He said you'd call again, but I didn't believe him."_

"Who, Bobby?"

The answer on the other end was the last one that Dean expected to hear, ever. _"Gabriel,"_ Bobby responded.

At that point, Dean knew better than to question the fact that Gabriel was even alive. He was a trickster to the core, even if he was an archangel. "He's on our side?" he asked instead.

_"Apparently. He corralled Sam away from some angels and took him off their radar. And he told me how Sam plans to get back to Earth."_

"Let me guess…the veil?"

_"Yeah,"_ Bobby said, impressed. _"How'd you figure that out?"_

"I've got a genius friend," Dean smiled faintly. "But we need to know where he'll turn up, so he can get back in his body right away, or he dies again." Or he would stay dead and not return to life. Worrying about the specific terminology was on Dean's backburner.

_"He told me Cas would know."_

"I just asked Cas; he doesn't," Dean protested.

_"Yeah, Gabriel thought you guys might not be smart enough to pull it together." _Even though the two of them hadn't spoken in a long time and Dean didn't' say anything at all following that comment, Bobby still knew the unhappy and insulted look he wore. "_I'm just saying what he said,"_ he reminded Dean. "_Look for a Lazarus pit in your region. That's where Sam'll wind up."_

"When?"

_ "Soon, I assume. But there's one other thing…"_

"What?"

_"Dean,"_ Bobby said, his tone suddenly more gentle_. "Sam's tucked away in Jo Harvelle's heaven. I'm gonna transfer you over there so you and Sam can talk this over and stop using me as your middleman."_

The emotions that spiked in Dean weren't easy to put into words. Last time he and Sam spoke, he was in the process of killing him. How was he going to reconcile that? He wasn't ready to talk; he didn't have the right words to say.

But—BUT, despite that, Dean desperately wanted to talk to Sam. He wanted to let him know that he was sorry, and that when Sam made it out of Heaven, he was in for a serious butt kicking, and that he loved him…

"Alright," Dean eventually sighed. "Transfer me."

*…*…*…*…*…*

Sometimes when Sam was extremely exhausted, he had nightmares all night long. Other times, his mind was quiet. Silent, even. Blackness would surround him and he would just be free of thinking about anything at all.

Unfortunately, his nap wasn't one of those occasions. Yeah, he was out cold, but he was dreaming of Jess, and of telling her he couldn't stay with her in heaven. She wasn't so happy about it in their dreams. Sam rolled over on the couch, hiding his face in the armrest. Jess tried to be brave, but she didn't want to say goodbye. He didn't either. So he accepted her outstretched hand and walked away from Heaven's door…

"Sam?" a voice from outside his dream called. It was gentle, feminine. Like Jess, but not her. He lifted a hand to his face, running a hand over it as he sat upright. Were those tears he felt, or just sweat? He chased the thoughts away and lowered the hand to his lap, seeing Jo standing in front of him. Glancing up at her face, he saw that she looked sad for him.

"What's up?" he asked. He cleared his throat and avoided her gaze.

"I've got Dean on the phone, Sam," she said gently. "You should talk to him."

_Dean? On the phone? _Sam grabbed the phone out of Jo's hand a bit too roughly, holding it up to his ear. "Dean?"

_ "Sam."_

A small laugh left his lips automatically. "Good to hear your voice, man," he said in all sincerity. He didn't know how long he had been away in Heaven, but it felt way too long. Just hearing Dean's voice almost made him tear up again in relief, because whenever Dean was involved, he knew he would make it out alive. Dean was too stubborn to let him die, and he appreciated that today.

_"Yeah, you too,"_ Dean replied quietly.

With those simple words, Sam could tell Dean was beating himself up for stabbing him. Sam didn't care about it; he walked right into it. But telling Dean all that over the phone wasn't going to fly. He had to make it back and tell him in person. "So listen," Sam said, picking up the slack in the conversation. "I found a way out of Heaven. I'm gonna go through the veil."

_"Already heard."_

"From who?"

_ "Well, I heard it from Bobby. Bobby heard it from Gabriel."_

"Gabriel?" Sam said, stunned. "He left me out to dry. I was stranded out in Heaven's hallway and he never showed up again." Gabriel was an enigma, as always. He guessed there was more to the story than he was seeing, so he just let that line drop. "I'll find an exit as soon as I can."

_"When you get back, we'll have your body waiting for you. Gabriel already told us where you're gonna land."_

_Again, seriously? _Why pass on the info and then not show up when he was supposed to? "Okay, great," Sam stammered.

_"Why do you sound so groggy?" _

Leave it to Dean to worry about him and something so simple when the situation was so grand. "I passed out on Jo's couch," Sam confessed. "…Heaven hasn't been too kind to me."

_"There's a reason we avoided that place for so many years, Sam."_

"Yeah." A tiny smile tugged at Sam's lips. "Well, you were right. Heaven sucks. I'm leaving and coming back, so you'll be stuck with me again."

_"You're getting a serious beat down when you come back. You know that, right?"_

"Looking forward to it," Sam said quietly. He _did _deserve it for making Dean go through something like that. He glanced up at Jo, but her gaze wasn't on him. She was looking at the door to the living room, which had also served as the door he entered in through. The door wasn't open, but somebody was standing in front of it, inside the comfort of the living room.

Gabriel finally decided to show up.

"Dean, I gotta go," Sam started.

_"Why, what's happening?"_

"Gabriel's here. Probably to take me to the veil. I'll meet you on the other side, okay?"

_"Yeah. Meet me there." _

There was plenty more to say, but nothing that they needed to put into words. They were on the same page and fighting towards the same goal. Sam would follow through with his end and Dean with his. That was really all there was to it.

He handed the phone back to Jo and stood up, facing the archangel. He had half a mind to slug him for leaving him alone in the hallway, but he restrained himself. "Where were you?" he asked dryly.

"Pulling together some loose ends," Gabriel responded. He stepped into the room, sitting down in an easy chair as a glass of chocolate milk magically appeared in his hand.

"Loose ends?" Sam repeated.

"I'm glad you asked. Our plan to go through the veil wasn't going to work unless your brother and everyone was in on it, so I dropped a few hints and whispered in their ears so they'd get it. Even after I got Charlie on the right train of thought, she didn't figure it all out, so I had to go to Bobby. And Jo here—I convinced her to open the door at just the right time to pull you in after Jess."

"You didn't say a word to me," Jo disagreed. "I didn't see you at all…"

"But you did get a feeling in your gut, right? Just this feeling of when you should open the door and that you should drag Sam in?" Jo digressed, realizing that was exactly what happened to her. "Yeah," Gabriel continued, "that's what I did with Charlie and Dean."

"Why not just come out and tell people what's up?" Sam asked skeptically.

"Um, how quickly do people in your lot trust angels?" Gabriel hardly even waited for an answer. "Yeah, _never._ But how often do you trust your gut?" Again, no wait time. "All the time."

"Okay, I get it," Sam submitted. He was annoyed, but Gabriel had valid points. No matter what side Gabriel was one, they could never trust him fully because of past experience and the fact that he was an angel.

"Glad you see it my way." Gabriel reached into a pocket and pulled out a small item: a tiny, corked flask with a white glowing light inside of it. Without any warning whatsoever, he lowered his hand and tossed the bottle to Sam. It landed smoothly and securely within his capable hands. "Congrats," Gabriel said. "You earned it."

The light shimmered inside, making a quiet noise that rang faintly in Sam's ears. "Where was it?" he asked, inspecting it with caution.

"A library. But I've actually had it on me the whole time."

At first, Sam was too shocked to believe it. Gabriel had it on him from the beginning? Even when he sent him to go see Jess?! "Why would you do that?" Sam practically growled. "Why did you force me to see Jess if you had it all along?!" He closed both hands into fists, though he was still careful with Cas's Grace. He wanted to slug Gabriel more than ever, and if Gabriel had been within reach, he would have done it. The angel pissed him off as he just sat in that chair and sipped his glass of chocolate milk.

"It wasn't a trial for Cas's Grace," Gabriel confessed. "But it _was _a trial. And you passed."

Sam was too tired and weary to put up with this. "Stop talking in riddles!" Sam snapped.

Suddenly, Gabriel became deathly serious. "You don't know what the veil's like," he said. "If you're going to make it through, you needed to be absolutely positive you want to go to Earth. No residual feelings or longings for Heaven. Seeing Jess helped clear all that doubt away, didn't it? You know where you belong."

He thought back to the dream that he had before Jo woke him up. Gabriel was wrong. He was still thinking about Jess and still thinking about staying in Heaven. If he had to put himself on a scale, he was probably 98% devoted to getting back to Earth, and 2% longing to stay with Jess.

But if he told Gabriel that, what would happen? Would Gabriel refuse to lead him to the veil? Force him to see and say goodbye to Jess _again? _

"Yeah," Sam bluffed. "Yeah, okay? Right again. Now will you take me to the veil?"

"With pleasure," Gabriel promised. He stood up, setting his empty glass on the coffee table in front of him. "Jo, don't bother showing us out," he told their hostess.

"You better not lead him astray," Jo threatened Gabriel darkly.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Gabriel walked over to Sam and stood right beside him, looking rather short and unimpressive compared to the giant. As he lifted a hand up to Sam's shoulder, the Winchester gave his farewell.

"Thanks, Jo," he said. "See you-" He didn't get to finish his sentence before his surroundings suddenly changed. One minute, he was looking at Jo and her small smile. The next, he was eying a swirling pool of darkness.

They were in the middle of Heaven, again. The white walls that surrounded them were as bright as ever, but the darkness was the darkest black that he could ever imagine. Even standing a few feet in front of it, Sam could feel cold, raw emotions protruding from it.

_ This is it, _he told himself. The veil. His way out. If he had any doubts at all, he had to leave them here.

"Hop on in, Sam," Gabriel said calmly. "And keep your head straight while you're in there. You're gonna run into some opposition in there…"

He quickly picked up how everything Gabriel said only included Sam. "You're not coming," he concluded. He had a feeling, since Gabriel was flighty all along.

"Nah," Gabriel agreed. "I'm gonna play dead for a while. It's more fun…"

Sam didn't care if Gabriel was being fully truthful about that or not; he didn't have the time to worry about Gabriel's plans. "Well, uh…thanks," he said, glancing at the arch angel out of the corner of his eye. Shift as Gabriel was, there was no way Sam would have escaped or would have Cas's Grace if it wasn't for him.

"No chick flick moments," Gabriel responded nonchalantly. "Bye, Sam."

Just like that, Sam was alone. There wasn't any time to dwell on his thoughts or linger in his doubts; it was time to move.

Sam took a deep breath and took the plunge into the darkness.

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Peanut: And…cut :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter; I don't really have too many comments except that I'm thrilled with how this one turned out. It came much more naturally and quickly than some other chapters have. Leave me a review with your thoughts. The more reviews I get, the sooner you'll get a chapter! **

**And to give you something to look forward to, here's the tentative title for the next chapter:**

**Chapter 11: Death**


	11. Chapter 11: Lazarus

Chapter Eleven: Lazarus

Dean and Cas had a mostly silent trip to the Lazarus Pit. Charlie and Jody were making the trip from the bunker with Sam in the backseat. Dean refused to think of it as "Sam's body," because that brought back the fact that Sam's heart and soul weren't there anymore. It would be back soon; that was all that mattered.

Several hours after taking off from Price's place, Dean pulled the impala by the small pond in the middle of an abandoned campground. According to Cas, the water had special healing properties. God sometimes left gifts like healing springs for people. While he could humor his angry thoughts and yell at God for days on end, Dean decided that for today, he'd accept the gift without complaint. It was going to bring Sam back, so he couldn't complain today.

Now he just wished there was a way to bring Cas back. The angel riding shotgun had been asleep for the entire ride. Cas wasn't vocal about his suffering, but Dean could tell that his Grace was fading every single day. As soon as Sam was back, Dean was going to devote all his time to trying to save Cas. But for the time being, he just let Cas sleep.

About an hour later, Jody and Charlie pulled up in a beat-up Honda Civic. Jody was driving while Charlie had her nose in a book. When the car stopped, Charlie put down the book and immediately saw Dean sitting on the hood of his impala. She opened the door, stood up, and walked the short distance to give Dean a silent hug. The hunter wasn't too surprised by it since Charlie was pretty easy to read, but that didn't mean he knew how to react. He went through the motions and simply lifted his arms and lightly embraced her back.

As soon as she pulled away, Dean saw that her eyes were red but very dry. She must have been crying a while ago. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Jody had aged ten years in the past few days. He was scared to look in the mirror when it was all over, because he imagined he would look even worse.

"How are you doing?" Jody asked from beside her car.

"Fine," Dean said automatically. "Let's just do this."

Glancing around the car, Charlie noted Cas once more. "What's wrong with Cas?"

"…The usual," Dean responded. He hated to even say that, but none of them found any solutions to his problem in the past few months. They had been too focused on the Mark and now Cas was paying the price. "Go ahead and wake him up." He didn't bother explaining why he wouldn't do it himself. Instead, Dean walked over to Jody's car and opened the back doors.

There was Sam, half sitting and half lying down on the back seat. The seatbelt that had once kept him upright wasn't strong enough to support Sam's hefty frame for the whole car ride. Charlie and Jody had both sat up front for a reason; neither of them wanted to share the back seat with a lifeless body. Just looking at Sam and seeing how pale he was sent shivers down Dean's spine.

"Dean, you don't have to," Jody's voice rang in his ears. "We can carry…"

"It's fine," Dean said numbly. "He's my brother. I can carry him." Actually, he was the only person who _would _carry Sam from this point on. The only reason that Jody and Charlie hefted Sam into the car before was because Dean wasn't there to do it. Now that he had his brother in his sight, Dean wasn't going to let even his closest friends too near. It was nothing personal, really—it was just how protective he was.

His hands undid the buckle and then grasped the sleeves that covered Sam's biceps. He slipped his arms under Sam and gently pulled the moose out of the vehicle and gently onto the ground. It took him a few moments, but he secured this grasp around Sam's large body and hefted him up into his arms.

Memories took over his mind as he numbly travelled to the water. When they were kids, there were so many occasions where Dean lifted Sam out of the car after a long drive and carried him into a motel bed. On some terrifying hunts, Sam hurt one of his legs and Dean had to carry him back to safety. Gangly as the kid used to be, he tripped over his legs way too easily and always got into trouble.

But they had lived through this exact situation before. When The Demon was after Sam and sent him off to his own version of the Hunger Games, Dean reached Sam just in time to see him die at the hands of Jake. It was the worst moment of his lift to have been so confident that his little brother was safe only to see him die in front of him instead.

For a long time, he had held onto Sam and rocked him back and forth while they sat in the mud. Then he did what was necessary and he carried his baby brother to a nearby building and laid him in bed. His body had been cold by that time, but not nearly as cold as it was now.

_Sammy, this is the last time we're doing this. You hear me? We are __**not **__doing this again…_ Dean wouldn't survive if he had to carry his brother's lifeless body one more time.

Dean glanced back over his shoulder at the three who waited by the cars. They didn't bother saying anything to him or even moving and that was fine. Just being reminded that he wasn't alone was enough for him.

He waded out into the water, holding Sam in his arms and feeling the weight lessen as the water began to take Sam's weight off of his arms. He took them in until the water was up to his chest and Sam was comfortably floating in front of him.

Now all he could do was wait until Sam returned to him. At least, that was what he thought until he noticed a fifth being randomly appear in the clearing.

His first instinct was to do a double take, because even if it was really easy to recognize the person, they weren't exactly alive. There was no doubt, though. With that petite figure outlined by a leather jacket and blue jeans, long and straight black hair and eyes that could pierce or soothe, Dean knew that it could only be one person.

"Tessa?" He started slowly, speaking in disbelief. "I thought you were dead…"

"And when has that ever stopped anyone in the past?" Tessa, an angel of death, asked with an arched brow. "Death is very temporary, Dean, especially when you work for the horseman Death."

Dean and Cas had the…"pleasure," of meeting Death in the past, and his name wasn't one that they wanted to hear right now. Death humored the Winchesters every once in a while, but last time Dean saw him, he was trying to reap Sam after the trials. Jody and Charlie knew the stories—Charlie in particular knew about him from the novels she read by Chuck. "What's he got to do with anything?" Charlie demanded.

Tessa ignored her and continued to look at Dean, as she had since the very beginning. She did, however, grace them with an answer. "Death is in the veil, reaping Sam's soul again as we speak. But if Sam's soul _does _make it back to his body, I'm here to send it back where it belongs."

"That's not going to happen," Castiel said firmly. That, finally, got the attention of the reaper. "You can only reap the souls of those that are close to death. When Sam returns-"

"—He'll be on the verge of death," Tessa finished. "The wound in his back is still there and he'll begin bleeding out once more. The Lazarus Pit won't heal him enough."

"Then **I **will," Cas challenged. They all knew what that meant for Cas. If he exerted too much energy, it was possible he'd never be able to recover. Actually, he would probably keel over and die right there.

"Cas," Dean began to protest.

"You won't be able to get close enough," Tessa said. "I'll reap you before then." The air suddenly became suffocatingly thin, just because of that one sentence. "You're near enough to death that I can take you right now. You'll die before you can save Sam, and Sam's soul will return to heaven."

"Why are you doing this, Tessa!?" Dean snapped in frustration. "Why do you want them dead so badly?"

Tessa sent Dean a chilling stare. "What's dead should stay dead. I thought you of all people would know that, Dean."

While Dean halted at her words, Castiel drew his angel blade. It slipped out of his sleeve and into his hand, which held it with his feeble strength. "All I have to do is survive until Sam returns. I'll heal him," Castiel swore.

"Cas…" Jody tried.

"There's no time to argue!" Cas snapped. "Let me save Sam. Then I can rest in peace."

Dean gripped Sam's body tightly in the water, staring at all of his friends on land. Castiel was absolutely serious and devoted to this cause. Everyone thought they were ready to do whatever to save Sam, but now that they were near the finish line and Cas's life was on the line, none of them were so sure. But all their possibilities were exhausted. This was their only way to save Sam, because every day that they spent searching for answers, Sam's body was growing worse.

Sam or Cas? Cas's life for Sam's? Or was Cas destined to die no matter what they did, and this way, they at least had Sam back?

There wasn't time to think through everything. Tessa drew her weapon and lunged at Cas only for Jody to shove the angel out of the way. While he toppled to the ground and dropped his blade, Charlie picked up the angel blade and stood ready. Charlie was going to square off against a reaper and Dean had a feeling that if they took too long, Cas wasn't the only soul that was going to be reaped. Tessa would right all the wrongs and take all their souls since they cheated death so many times.

Sammy had to hurry back, or they were all coming to him.

*…*…*…*…*…*

The veil was exactly the way that Sam expected it to be: a pitch-black whirlpool of death and despair. He couldn't see a foot in front of him, let alone the exit he was supposed to be working his way towards. His arms stretched out before him as he fought against some unseen pressure and stepped forward. Along with the cries of the dead, there was a howling in his ears that wouldn't go away.

It was like he was standing in the middle of a tornado, fighting against the wind and trying to walk towards some kind of haven. It was a safe comparison, because he knew what it felt like to fight against hurricane-force winds.

He was just eleven years old and on one of his first hunting trips. It was just him and his dad; Dean was back at the hotel because he was sick. Of course Dean had insisted that he was fine to go along, but John ordered Dean to stay back. Sam was smart enough to know that John didn't tell Dean to stay back because of his sickness; he told him to stay back so he wouldn't coddle Sam on the hunt. How twisted was it that his own dad wanted to shatter his innocence so early on? He couldn't see that John was trying to toughen him up so he could live; he saw cruelty. And all he felt was fear. Intense, suffocating fear.

That fear was most prominent when he and Dad got separated from each other in the woods of Pennsylvania. It was a summer's night and the weather was taking a turn for the worse. There was a hurricane coming in from the coast and it was on top of them in the middle of the hunt. Even John was willing to admit how dangerous it was, but that didn't mean he was going to stop the hunt. He ordered Sam to run back to the car while he finished the hunt.

Unfortunately, the storm completely turned Sam around. He couldn't find the right direction to go in, let alone the car itself.

The veil around him began to shift around him. Instead of being purely black, the air above him began to sizzle and boom with the rumbles of thunder. The world literally became his memories, with the visibility brightening slightly with the gray sky. Trees all around him groaned in the wind, bending, swaying, and cracking with every punch they took. Sam himself reverted and began to experience the whole situation as if it was brand new to him.

"Dad?" his voice squeaked. It was no longer the voice of a man in his thirties; his voice and his body de-aged so that he was once more eleven years old. Eleven years old, trapped in a terrible storm, and terribly alone and afraid. "_Dad!"_ Thunder boomed over him, hiding his voice. He was panicked and flighty; all he wanted to do was get back to the car like his dad told him to do, but he couldn't. What if the car wasn't even there anymore? What if it was crushed by a tree or something?

_You gotta calm down! _his mind shouted at him. If his dad saw him like this, he wouldn't be happy that Sam was so childish and afraid. _Just think. If you can't get to the car, what then? _

_Then, _he spoke back to himself, _I just need to find some shelter. I gotta find some place safe to stay until the storm blows over, and then I'll get back to Dad. _

The silence in his mind was agreement. Now that he had a goal, he could move on. Raising his hands in front of his face, he pressed onward, fighting against the wind and ignoring the swaying trees the best that he could. _Shelter, _he told himself again and again. _Shelter…Shelter…_

It took some time to press forward, but eventually, he saw a clearing in front of him. It was just an old log cabin—more like a log shed with the size of it. The tree branches that laid on top of it were probably there because of the storm. The dozens of trees that surrounded the whole area would probably crush the whole thing soon, but the way Sam saw it, it was better to have some kind of protection over him, even if it was just an old, beat up log cabin.

He pressed onward with his greatest strength until he reached that plank of wood that was the door. When he opened it, he saw a tiny red table with green chairs, a rusty refrigerator, and a kitchen that looked like it never made it past the sixties. The area on the right, though, was much cleaner.

The living room was clear of dust and had semi-modern furniture. Two leather chairs sat catty-corner to each other with a tiny end table stuck between them. The stone fireplace that sat behind them was lit with a roaring fire.

A man in black stood there, staring at the fire while Sam stared at his back. He held a cane tightly in his left hand, though he hardly seemed to need it for support.

"Come in, my boy," the strange man said before Sam could utter a word. The lean, gaunt man turned around and looked at Sam without looking startled or surprised. He didn't even raise his voice over the storm, yet Sam heard him perfectly well. "Have a seat."

Sam was normally much more cautious around strangers, but something about that man felt familiar. He almost seemed…kind. And since the storm had been anything but kind to him, Sam was ready to soak up whatever friendliness was presented to him. He inched forward and sat down in one of the leather chairs, shifting around and realizing that it was far too large for him.

The man walked around the chairs and sat down in the own nearby, easily settling himself and propping his cane against the chair.

"Can I wait here for the storm to end?" Sam asked after a few moments. "My Dad's probably looking for me…"

"Sam…" he said in a tone that was almost gentle. "Your father isn't coming."

_No. That's not true. _Dad was often absent when they needed him, but when it came to a hunt, he always made sure he and Dean were okay. It would take some time, but his dad was going to come and find him soon.

"He's coming," Sam declared in confidence. "He'll be here…"

"I need you to listen to me closely." The man leaned forward in his seat, compelling Sam to do the same. He spoke softly as his words flowed like honey. "This is a dream of sorts, Sam. You've lived through this experience before. In order to be released from it, you must recall how it ended."

Sam stared at the man and blinked slowly. That was something pretty big to swallow. The storm outside wasn't real, not right now. What kind of nonsense was that? But then…it fit, sort of. He was beginning to get a sense of déjà vu from the whole thing. Besides, this building and this man were too familiar, but he knew he never met him before or saw this place.

_My life's weird, _he reminded himself. _I have to consider every possibility. _He closed his eyes and gripped the armrests as he tried to recall everything. He had been in the middle of the storm, trying desperately to find some sort of shelter. It was so windy and dark, though, that he couldn't. He knelt down underneath a tree and wrapped his arms around his legs and sat there for hours. He rocked back and forth and silently cried while whimpering for his Dad and even Dean. The next morning when the storm was over, Dad and Dean searched the whole area for him.

"Dean found me," Sam remembered. "He found me and…" That was right! He wrapped his jacket around him and carried him back to the car. He set him in the back seat and advised him to calm down as much as he could, because Dad was coming back soon and he wouldn't be happy to see Sam so scared. And indeed, John wasn't happy. That wasn't the part that Sam was going to focus on now.

Dean saved him. Just like he always did.

"You've returned to your former self," the man said from his chair.

Sam opened his eyes and saw his hands grasping the armrests. Those hands were much larger than they were just two minutes ago, but it didn't startle him. Bouncing back into his thirty-something year old body was just as easy and natural as the transition to eleven had been. The difference was that now he was living in the present, and presently, he knew who the man next to him was.

"Why did you help me?" Sam asked the man whom he now recognized to be Death.

"I have my motives," Death responded. "Right now, you should be focusing on a different question."

That was what he _was _focusing on, and why he asked the question he did. Death was here for a certain reason. It was the same reason he had last time they met in this cabin… "You're here to reap me," Sam stated without question.

"I am," Death confirmed.

"Can you make an exception? Again?" Sam asked as humbly as he could. He realized that Death most likely wasn't happy with him, considering just how often Sam escaped Death's grasp. It was unnatural to be alive so long and to have been on the brink of death so many times. He knew that it was long past his time to go and that Death didn't owe him a single thing, but he still had to ask. "Please."

"Sam Winchester, you intrigue me."

Sam blinked, sitting up straighter in shock. The immortal, infinite being of death just called him interesting. That was the last thing he expected to hear.

"You and your brother both do, but don't tell that to Dean," Death advised. "Dean is already too cocky for my taste."

"O-okay…"

Death stared into the kitchen, though he surely wasn't thinking about Chicago pizza or any other kind of food. Dean was the one who always offered food to Death to placate him, not Sam. The thought struck him as funny, but there was so much crazy in his life that even the idea of offering Death pizza wasn't off limits.

"You and your brother really should desire peace by now with all that you've gone through, yet you keep throwing yourselves into the stickiest situations. Why?"

_Because we're insane, _Sam responded mentally. There were some days he wondered if that was true, because who in their right mind would willingly inflict so much pain on themselves? That wasn't the answer, though—not really. "Because," Sam began slowly. "No matter how painful our job is, it's our job. We were taught not to leave anything half done."

"You'll be sorely disappointed when your time to die comes," Death stated. "You and Dean will never see all the monsters gone."

"I know," Sam agreed. "But we're going to make a dent in it as much as we can." _Wait…he said _when _my time to die comes… _"Is it not my time to die yet?"

"It's past time," Death responded. "But it would be boring to reap you now when you have so much potential. I want to witness the world you envision. So you may go."

Sam stared at Death with wide eyes. He had _Death's _permission to live. He thought he would have to fight Death tooth and nail to get out, but Death practically gave him his blessing. "Thank you…" Sam said in awe. "Thanks…"

"You still have a long way to return to life, Sam," Death warned. "When you return to the veil, you'll continue to recall some of our worst memories and experience them anew. In order to escape them, you must remember the outcome. I won't be there to remind you of your task."

"Okay, yeah, got it," Sam nodded. He rose to his feet, glancing at the door. He already experienced Heaven, Purgatory, Hell, and Earth. As long as he stayed strong, he knew he could make it through whatever the veil threw at him.

"And another thing. When you return to your body, you'll still be fatally wounded. Fight against that wound and the reaper there to collect your soul." _Okay, that doesn't sound nearly as easy. _He thought with Death's blessing, getting back to life would be a cinch, but he thought wrong. "This is one final test for you to pass in order to assure you have the right to live. Don't fail, Sam."

"I won't," Sam swallowed. The finish line kept drifting further and further out of sight, but he knew it was there, and Dean was waiting. That was all the motivation he needed to press on.

Sam walked to the front door that he entered through, setting a hand on the knob as he pulled the door towards him. He took in a breath to calm his nerves and take in the strength that he needed in order to accomplish these last tasks. When he finally stepped outside, he could have sworn he heard Death's voice follow after him.

_Good luck, my boy. _

*…*…*…*…*…*

Dean kept a hold of Sam's floating body, setting one hand on his chest just to keep Sam from drifting anywhere. He practically had a death grip on the kid's shirt because of what he was witnessing on land. The 3 on 1 match against Tessa wasn't going well. Charlie was sitting dazed against one of the trees because of a blow to the head and Cas kept being driven closer to the water because Jody now wielded the blade and squared off against Tessa. Jody was tough, but a swordsman she wasn't. It was only a matter of time before she fell, and then Cas….and then Sam….

Sam's body suddenly spasmed beneath Dean's arm. He briefly sank under the water before his face rose out of the water and Sam cried out in alarm.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, grasping the front of Sam's shirt even more tightly because the kid was so squirrely. As soon as he heard Dean's voice, Sam's eyes bolted open and locked onto his above him. With just one glance, Dean could tell that Sam was in a world of pain. If they didn't heal him quick…

But Cas! If Cas…

Sam lifted one of his hands and grasped Dean's wrist tightly, effectively pulling Dean's eyes back down to him. "Hold on, Sammy," Dean said, assuming that it was the pain that made him reach out. Cas was already running over while Jody literally threw herself in Tessa's path to slow her down.

Then, Sam pried Dean's hand open and placed something inside of it. He twisted his hand and looked down at the item with wide eyes. It was a tiny little bottle with a glowing white mist inside of it.

_Grace, _Dean immediately thought. _Cas's Grace. Sammy, how'd you get a hold of this?! _It didn't really matter now, because it meant that all of them were walking away alive today. "CAS!" Dean shouted, tossing the bottle to the angel who was in the water to his ankles. Dean began to drag Sam closer to shore while the later suppressed a groan of pain.

Cas's natural reflexes helped him catch the item even though he was equally stunned to see what it was that was given to him. He stared at it for only seconds before he opened the bottle and began to inhale his Grace.

"Everybody close your eyes!" Dean ordered. He set a hand over Sammy's eyes and briefly glanced at the three women. Charlie was standing up and ready to fight again, but with Dean's order, she lifted her arm to her eyes. Jody wisely did the same, though she kept the blade tightly in her grip.

"No!" Tessa yelled as she took notice of the scene.

It was too late, though. Cas stood up taller as his former strength returned to him. His eyes began to glow with bluish-white fury as the air around him cackled in power. And then it was all released. A shockwave of light ran through the area, creating waves on the dusty ground and in the water. Sammy did cry out in pain from that movement, but at that point, it was such a relief to hear Sammy cry out that Dean didn't flinch.

When Dean opened his eyes, he saw that Tessa was completely gone. Banished from the scene—not dead. Charlie and Jody lowered their arms and looked around, undoubtedly confused about what just happened but equally relieved to see that Tessa was gone.

"Cas," Dean called then.

He hardly needed to call. Cas was already shifting through the water as quickly as he could. Dean pulled Sam closer to shore with him, stopping when Sam's back was resting on the ground of the shallow part of the pond to meet Cas halfway. His happy thoughts from a minute ago were gone when he saw the dull expression on Sam's face. For once, he would have been happy to see Sam in extreme pain, because that meant he wasn't so close to death.

"I gotcha, Sammy," Dean said while Cas set a hand on his brother's forehead. "You ain't goin' anywhere, you hear me?"

Sammy looked up at him in clear pain and understanding. It was the look of trust that Sammy always showed him when they were growing up. Whatever the issue was, Sam knew that Dean was looking out for him and that as long as he was around, nothing bad was going to happen to him. He made that promise to Sammy over and over again when the kid had night terrors and faced monsters and demons. That promise was just as true today as it was back then.

As Cas's hand glowed white, Sam began to regain some color and his natural warmth. His expression began to show more awareness, but his eyes still showed extreme exhaustion.

The lug was alive, though. He was really alive.

"He's fully healed," Castiel said as he pulled his hand away.

Dean glanced at Cas, and then back at Sam, who had closed his eyes and looked like he was about to pass out. "Cas?" he checked. "Why's he…"

"His body is fine," he explained. "It's his very soul that is so weary. All he needs is rest."

If that was the case, then there was no point in leaving Sam lying in some pond. "Can you walk, Sasquatch?" Dean quietly asked his little brother.

"Yeah…" Sam breathed.

"Then up we go." Dean raised Sam's torso and wrapped one of Sam's arms around his shoulders before his arm went around Sam's lower back. The kid was like a ginormous ragdoll only worse because he was also soaking wet and semiconscious.

Dean dragged Sam up to his feet, feeling his brother lean so heavily into him that it was like he could let alone hold himself up, let alone walk. But when Dean took the first step, Sam did too. And the next one. And the one after. Charlie and Jody stood by the side, bruised at battered, as they watched Dean half-drag Sam to the impala. Neither of them moved because they knew that Dean had it all under control, and he wouldn't want anyone touching Sam for now.

Charlie did take the initiative to run forward and open the front passenger side door of the impala for Dean and he didn't protest. He gently pushed Sam inside and readjusted him to he'd stay sitting upright before he did the buckle.

"Home?" Charlie asked once Dean backed up and shut the door.

"Home," he confirmed.

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Chapter's late, I know. Probably has loads of errors because I did very basic proofreading. But hey, I made up for it by having it be a long one! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and the story as a whole; we don't have too much longer to go now. **

**Peanut**


	12. Chapter 12: Damage Assessment

Chapter 12: Damage Assessment

Sam woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon, grease, and waffles.

Since they found a permanent home in the bunker, Dean had progressively become more homely than ever. It wasn't unusual for him to wake up and cook breakfast, but Sam was always up earlier than him, so he never actually woke up to the drifting smells. Aside from that, it had been a long time since Dean cooked himself a decent breakfast; with the Mark on his arm, he woke up every morning with beer and coffee. Both served to ward off the nightmares from the night before and make up for the lack of sleep.

So, Sam was understandably happy to smell all that unhealthy food. It meant that Dean was ok again.

He carefully rolled himself out of his bed. It felt like his body weighed a ton. There was no physical pain, but Sam had to put every ounce of strength into sitting up on the edge of the bed. He felt exhaustion before this whole incident, but this was a completely different level.

It didn't make a difference. He was alive and back in the bunker. He had to get up and go find Dean and whoever else was with him.

One foot in front of the other, Sam trudged out of the bedroom. He entered the hallway and kept a hand lightly against the wall for stability. Memories from the whole ordeal had left him alone while he slept, but they came flashing back now. There was Jess, beautiful and understanding. Jo, at peace but still a hunter at heart.

And then there was Death, and everything that happened afterward.

Those were the memories that lingered longest and sent a faint tremble down his spine. The worst moments of his life all happened in there like they never happened before. The fear was just as real as the first time. Going through them all again was a while knew kind of trauma.

Through the hall, through the library, and into the kitchen Sam went. There was nobody as the stove anymore because all the food was already cooked and everyone was getting ready to dig in. Sam hadn't gotten a great look at everyone yesterday, but he wasn't surprised to notice that it was Dean, Cas, Charlie, and Jody that were seated at the round dinner table.

Dean had his back to Sam, so he wasn't the first one to react to his presence. It was Charlie who looked up from her plate with wide eyes as she uttered his name. "Sam…"

That was all it took to send Dean into protective mode. He shoved his seat back and stood up, facing his younger brother in the doorway. One glance over from Dean told him all he needed to know: Sam was exhausted. "Have a seat," Dean said, pulling his chair back even further so Sam could easily scoot into it.

"I'm fine," Sam started to protest. But he spoke too slowly. Dean already walked the short distance between them and grabbed onto Sam's upper arm. Yesterday, Dean had grabbed Sam and helped him along. With the fatigue he felt then, he nearly melted in comfort and relief when he realized that Dean could carry him for a little while. His journey was anything but easy…

Dean guided Sam down into the chair, where the latter couldn't help but notice the heaping plate smothered in syrup. "Dude, you don't have to drown the food—it's already dead."

"Shut up, Samantha," Dean snorted as he set a hand on the back of the seat. "You don't get to complain when I cook breakfast for you."

"Did you even try to soak the grease off the bacon? It's so greasy it might slide off the plate."

"The syrup'll stick it to the plate till you get to it," Dean said proudly. "Now eat your breakfast."

Sam half rolled his eyes, but his mouth turned up into a faint smile with the same action. It was a stupid, petty argument, and neither of them said anything with bite. This was just what they needed to do to fall into some scheme of normalcy and ignore whatever nightmares they were both having.

Picking up his fork, he began to eat while Dean prepared himself another plate. He grabbed a chair and slid it between Sam and Cas. The angel was also eating, though he probably didn't need to now that his Grace was back.

It was a few minutes into the meal when the peaceful silence was broken. "Sam," Castiel began, "I have to say thank you, for finding my Grace."

"Of course," Sam nodded.

"How _did _you manage to find it?"

That was the kind of question that Sam feared. The "how's" and the "why's" and the "what's." Basically, he feared any question right now that would dig deeper into things. Dean suffered enough with killing him; he didn't need to know how Sam's heart was broken over and over again in his journey back.

But Cas deserved to know what happened, so he told him. "Gabriel," Sam said. "He found it and passed it on to me to give to you."

"Just like that?" Dean asked in amazement. "Last time, it took a lot to get him on our side."

"He decided to skip that part this time," Sam said. "It was nice of him." He took a huge mouthful of food, hoping it would keep them from asking questions. No such luck.

"Who else did you run into up there? I know you saw Jo…"

Sam swallowed the food. "Yeah. Jo's great. Same as ever, but at peace." He saw a lot of people in Heaven, but did he really want to share all of that? Not really, but if he kept it a secret, Dean would find out and be hurt. "Saw Ash. And Kevin. Then Gabriel." More softly. "And Jess." He reached for the water and took a drink, staring down at the glass while everyone else stared at him. Dean, Cas, and Charlie were most knowledgeable on that part of his past. Jody didn't specifically know who Jess was, but she could tell that it was somebody important.

All of them took the hint and led that thread of conversation drop. The new one they chose was hardly any better.

"Tessa told us that you saw Death in the veil," Charlie said. She paused, as if waiting for confirmation. Sam gave her the slightest of nods and she continued. "How did you get away from him?"

"He let me go. He sort of wanted me to live."

"_Why_?" Dean asked. "Lately, all he's tried to do is keep you in the grave."

"I convinced him I wasn't done yet," Sam said simply. Once more, he began to play with the food on his plate. He only ate a quarter of what Dean served him, and while that may have been a huge amount, eating a quarter of it wasn't good enough. Every second though, his appetite was disappearing.

"Did something else happen, Sam?" Jody tried, using a gentler tone.

_Of course it did. It always does. _He swore that he wouldn't lie about anything that happened. But he couldn't answer that question. Not right now.

He shoved his chair back and stood up, looking much like a cornered animal that was ready to run. "Whatever happened to that case we found?" Sam asked mainly Dean. "The one about the possessed college girl?"

Dean stared up at him in obvious concern, confusion, and worry. "We didn't do anything about it."

"Then we should," Sam said. "Right now."

Dean knew Sam better than anyone, so he was quickly connecting the dots in his head and realizing that Sam needed some out from this conversation.

Unfortunately not everyone at the table caught that drift. "Sam," Cas started, "You've just returned from a difficult journey. Now's not the time to be thinking about hunting."

_No. No no. Don't drag me back into this conversation, Cas, please. _"There's some innocent girl out there who's possessed," Sam spilled out too quickly. "We need to help her."

The way that everyone stared at Sam like he had three heads was enough to drive him insane. They were all analyzing him, trying to get inside his head and figure out what memories set this off. Well in Sam's ticked off and frantic mind, they needed to stop being so nosy and **back off**. He could swear that he was going to suffer a legitimate anxiety attack, and this time, it wouldn't be caused by the Fear of Abel.

"Dean," Sam tried again, looking down to his big brother. _Please. _

"Okay, yeah," Dean said to Sam's relief. He began to stand up, grasping his half-eaten plate so that he could carry it to the trash and then throw it in the sink.

"Sam, if you don't want to talk about it, all you need to do is say so." Jody's voice was colder and more closed down than it had been just a minute ago when she tried to get Sam to open up. Both boys did a double take and stared at her in alarm.

"It's fine," Sam lied. "We just need to take care of this girl, that's-"

"Well that's not happening," Jody declared. "Cas is right, Sam, you just came back and you're still having a hard time even standing upright. There's no way you're going on a hunt right now. I'll go and take Charlie and Cas with me."

"Wait, what?" Dean started.

"I'm in," Charlie agreed instantly. "Cas?"

Though Cas was falling behind because of all the subtext of the conversation, he knew that it was best to just play along. "Alright," he said. All three of them rose to their feet. The rest took some time, but it was simple enough that Sam could sum it up in one sentence: They backed bags, grabbed some food for the road, said goodbye, and hopped in a car and left.

Leaving Sam and Dean alone for the first time since Dean stabbed him.

"Awkward" couldn't begin to describe the air between them for the first few hours. Dean avoided him for a little while by cleaning up all the dishes in the kitchen (which he certainly took his time with). Then he began cleaning up the library and putting away any books the group used to try and save Sam. By the time he was done that, Sam was sitting on the couch in front of a television that they put in a while back, dozing off and on the very edge of consciousness.

Dean looked at his little brother for a long time in silence. The kid had him freaked, but it wasn't the first time and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Sammy had a habit of getting himself into trouble and making Dean worry.

_What did you go through to get back here? _Dean silently wondered. He wasn't stupid; he knew that Sam was keeping something from them all earlier at the table. He let it go because he knew Sam needed some time to mull over everything and cope in his own way, but Dean figured he gave him enough time. Now, Sam needed to talk and get it out, before it festered inside him like a cancer.

And he needed to help his brother _somehow. _After what he did, this was the only thing Dean could do to atone.

"Sam?" Dean asked gruffly, quietly. No response, of course. If Sammy was awake, he knew that the conversation to come wasn't pleasant. And if he was asleep—well, he was asleep. No need to think deeper than that.

He quietly placed himself next to Sam on the couch, eyeing the kid cautiously. If he _was _asleep, then he needed the rest. Cas said that it was Sam's soul that was tired and that his physical body was okay, but Dean couldn't help looking over him again and again. It was all that he could do. Physical wounds he could help heal, but the soul—he had nothing on that. He had no way to tell what kind of shape it was even in.

_I need to hold off on that talk, _Dean suddenly decided. _I gotta watch him and see what kind of shape he's in. Then we'll talk. _

His mind made up, Dean leaned back into the chair and folded his arms over his chest. He was tired too, and now that Sam was here and within arm's reach, maybe he could get some decent rest. His eyes flickered shut and Dean eventually forced himself to rest.

Just like Sam's, it was filled with nightmares.

*…*…*…*…*…*

Even if he _was _in the middle of yet another nightmare, Sam wasn't ready to wake up just yet. His body may have been perfectly fine even after everything, but his mind and soul weren't bouncing back so easily.

The only reason he was coming to was because the air around him had turned brutally, bone-chillingly cold.

Sam shivered, attempting to sink deeper into the couch to absorb some of the warmth that his body heat had put into the fabric. There wasn't the slightest solace or change in temperature. Why couldn't he escape the cold?

Or a better question: Why was it so cold in the first place?

He slowly opened his eyes, peeking in front of him only to see a different landscape than usual. The television that was once on was filled with static and the lights were dimmed to the point that they hardly seemed to emit any light at all.

Worse than that, there was a figure in a torn black robe hovering right in front of him.

"DEAN!" Sam hollered in panic. He hadn't even noticed that his brother was right next to him until he felt the jolt in the couch. Even so, he kept his eyes on the creature. Its face was shrouded by a black hood, as was its entire body. It was unlike any spirit that he saw before. Just the aura that it was putting out made him feel so terrified—so hopeless and alone.

An hand reached out and grabbed onto his arm—not the monster's. Dean's. His big brother held on tight to Sam's upper arm and dragged him away from the creature that had been too close for comfort. Sam stumbled over his tired legs, but Dean's strong hold was enough to level him and keep him moving away from the spirit.

When they were at the edge of the room, Sam dared to look over his shoulder. "Dean." His voice came out weak and weary, like he just woke up from a sad dream and he didn't have a full grasp on reality yet. His tone didn't really matter to him; it was the message that he was trying to convey. Dean knew him well enough to look over his shoulder towards the couch.

The monster disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

Sam sank down to the ground in relief, pressing his back against the wall as he wrapped his arms around his chest. The air was slowly warming up, but the coldness lingered over him. He expected Dean to be more rational and go check out the area by the couch or grab a weapon, but instead, Dean slid down to the ground next to him and breathed out his own sigh of relief. His breaths came out unevenly, and Sam realized then that Dean was probably affected by the monster the same way that he was. The only difference was that Dean had enough presence of mind to drag him out of there.

Even now, Dean was still aware enough to utter the question they were both thinking.

"What was**that**?!"

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Peanut: Once more, the story has taken on a life of its own. I was going to wrap things up this chapter but I decided to follow the story further. **** So we'll still have a few more chapters to go in this one, unless it takes yet another spin that I'm not anticipating. **

**I want to take a moment and thank the people who reviewed the last chapter: Daisy, cammiemorris7, shadowdancer33996, sunshine102897, SamSam, and reannablue. And thanks to everyone who's been reviewing the story as a whole. I've been bad with getting back to people personally but I REALLY appreciate your faithfulness to the story and your feedback. You guys all rock!**

**In other news, life's about to get hectic, so apologies for longer gaps between chapters in both my active Supernatural stories. **

**Ta Ta for now, **

**Peanut**


	13. Chapter 13: Made Up Monster

Chapter Thirteen: Made Up Monster

Ten minutes after the appearance and immediate disappearance of the monster, Sam sat at the table in the library and sifted through the Men of Letters books. He had _never _seen that monster before. It reminded him of some things, like the shtriga that fed on the energy of children. But that thing could never make it into the bunker with all the warding they had.

The next creature he thought of was a reaper. He knew from experience that reapers just looked like average Joes, but the creature looked so much like a storybook reaper that he had to at least look into it.

Other than that, he had nothing.

He sifted through one of the books, researching reapers first. Maybe there was some sect to them that they didn't know about. Some kind that looked like the grim reaper and could make it past the warding _and _could go after people who weren't on the brink of death.

Dean sat down across the table with two plates of cake in front of him. Sam didn't see how Dean could be eating at a time like this; the bunker was just penetrated and here he was eating away. Granted, that was how Dean often coped with trauma, but he could at least grab a book and start searching.

"You should eat something," Dean said, interrupting Sam's focused mind.

"I'm fine," he said automatically.

"You haven't eaten since breakfast and you didn't even eat much there. So, eat." He set a plate right on top of Sam's open book. Naturally, Sam looked up in aggravation. Dean just made two serious errors: he interrupted Sam's research _and _put food on top of a book. But he wasn't going to fight Dean over it so soon after everything.

Exhaling a breath in aggravation, Sam picked up the plate, moved the book to the side, and then put the plate on the table. He wondered when Dean even had time to bake a chocolate cake. _Probably this afternoon while he was avoiding me, _he realized. _It's too fresh to have been here before I died. _

Dean was watching, so Sam picked up the fork and began to chip away at the chocolate cake. He normally wasn't a fan of unhealthy food like that, yet the chocolate melted on his tongue and filled his whole body with warmth. _I have never loved chocolate cake as much as I love it right now. _He hungrily took another piece of it, seeing Dean eat his cake a little more slowly and deliberately. It was a true role reversal.

Halfway through, though, Sam realized something wasn't quite right. He didn't like junk food, and he certainly didn't inhale it like he was doing right now. He set down the fork and gave Dean a suspicious look. "Did you put something in the cake?"

"What? Of course not." He looked offended that Sam even suggested it in the first place. "What makes you think that?"

"Because…I like it. A lot," Sam confessed.

Dean snorted. "Now's not really the time for jokes, Sam."

"I'm serious! You know I don't like junk food but here I am…"

"Well, you're hungry. You went through a lot."

_A lot that you haven't told me, _Dean's tone conveyed. Sam stared at him and locked onto Dean's gaze. He picked up on the message, but he wasn't ready to budge yet. "Yeah, well," Sam swallowed. "We both have." He pushed his cake off to the side and picked the book back up in an attempt to shut down conversation.

Dean wasn't going to cooperate with that. "You're the one who says we should talk about things," he stated with slight agitation. "What's got you shut down?"

"We can talk about this later, alright? We're in the middle of a hunt."

"And what makes you think these things aren't connected?" Dean demanded. "Maybe you brought that monster back with you from the veil."

"So what, you wanna splash me in holy water or something?" Sam snapped in frustration. "Touch me with some silver? It's not some monster we know, so we gotta research! If you could just let me focus-"

"You're focusing on the wrong thing, Sam! We gotta sort out what's goin' on with you."

Sam flexed his jaw in frustration. There was plenty that Dean wasn't saying, but it was all implied in his tone. He didn't think Sam was mentally or physically capable of hunting. Maybe a couple of hours ago he wasn't—heck, maybe he still wasn't. But there was a monster in their presence and they didn't have a choice any more.

"I'm gonna call Charlie," Dean stated. Sam jumped in his seat and stared at Dean in shock. Of course they were on the same page, but Dean was wrong. He kept going without regard to Sam. "She and Cas and Jody can come and take care of this."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam practically growled. _No. No way. _"We're hunters, and we hunt monsters. So if one's here, we can take care of it." And besides that, he didn't like the idea of those three coming back. He loved them all to pieces and would die for any of them in a heartbeat, but if they came back, they would absolutely press him for answers harder than they already were. Jody was tough on him last time and made him feel guilty for not opening up. A mom tactic, probably. He wouldn't know since he didn't have a mother.

"We can't take care of it until we know everything factoring into the situation," Dean said. He was trying to restrain himself and keep his voice calm, but he was obviously worked on. "You coming back from the veil and this thing appearing are linked. If you opened up then we could piece this together a whole lot faster."

_Still not happening. _

"Sam," Dean ordered lowly while Sam stared at his book. "You gotta talk to me, man. This thing is ripping you to shreds." He said that in a more pleading tone, like he was close to begging.

_I can't do it, Dean. I'm sorry. But…I'll start to fill in some of the pieces. _

"It might be connected to grief," he said as he turned a page in the book. "I saw a lot of people we lost." Dean opened his mouth to protest and say he knew that already, but Sam suddenly lifted a hand and stared at him. "What did you say was in the cake?" he randomly asked.

"Um…nothing?" Dean repeated. "Why?"

"No no no, the flavor of it. Chocolate," Sam muttered. He rose to his feet, looking around the library. There was absolutely no way that the Men of Letters had a copy of the books he was looking for, and he had to recall that he and Dean only ever had them when they borrowed them from local libraries.

"Sam…what are you thinking?" Dean asked in a more serious, less worried tone. Even he could tell that the wheels were turning in Sam's head and he was close to a breakthrough.

"Those books you used to get for me whenever we were in towns long enough. Boy wizard, lightning scar…"

"Harry Potter?"

"Yeah!" That was it. "And there were those monsters-"

"Dementors," Dean filled in. "_Fictional _creatures, Sam."

"Maybe at first." He set a hand on the table, staring at Dean as he dumped everything. "Think about it. Harry Potter has a _huge _following. People always complain about not getting letters to the school and that they want magic to exist, so…"

"So," he finished, "you think the dementors have enough of a following that they were brought into existence."

"Tulpas. It makes sense, right? It was the chocolate thing that got me. Doesn't that help heal a person after an encounter?"

"That, and the fact that the air turns brutally cold wherever they are, they're creepy as anything, and they suck away all your happiness."

"Right-"

"_And _they're attracted to people who went through great suffering." Dean stared at him pointedly.

"They should have been after us years ago, then," Sam countered.

"…Fair enough."

_Squashed that conversation again. _At this rate, maybe Sam could keep Dean off that track until the end of the hunt. Now they knew what they were hunting. The only thing left was to find a way to kill it.

"You'd need a witch or a wizard to kill it," Dean was already saying. "They need a patronous charm. And even then, it's not clear if that kills them or just wards them."

"We don't have any witch friends to kill it for us," Sam thought aloud. They only knew one witch right now, and that was Rowena. No way were they going to work with her—not while they had some common sense. "Okay, give me some time to research online. There's gotta be some kind of fan made way to kill them…"

It only took Sam a few minutes to switch out the books for his laptop. His laptop had been put in his bedroom a little while back, so he was out of the room for just a few minutes before he was back at the table and browsing through whatever the internet had to offer. While Sam began sifting through all the search results, Dean stared off into space, thinking about something. Sam figured it was either more worry for him or that Dean was finally focused and thinking about the case.

But then Sam realized that Dean wasn't just staring at nothing and thinking. The way he was fidgeting and folding his hands showed that he was up tight about something. It wasn't Sam, because even when he was worried about Sam earlier, he wasn't doing that. He put his search on hold and stared at his brother for a while. Something was off—something happened in the time between Sam getting the laptop and coming back.

"The monster didn't come back while I was gone, did it?" Sam checked, though he was sure that wasn't the case.

"No." Dean's eyes glanced down to an object on the table but quickly flitted away. If Sam hadn't been looking suspiciously, he wouldn't have even noticed it. But he was, and Dean just glanced at his cell phone.

Sam snatched it away, hearing Dean cry out a "dude" in outrage. "You called them, didn't you?" Sam asked quietly.

"Sam…"

He didn't bother waiting; he went into Dean's recent calls list and saw the phone call. There was a two minute phone call with Charlie that just happened five minutes ago. Even without seeing all the details, Sam could read the situation easily enough: Dean called and told them all to come back, despite Sam telling him that they were hunters and they could deal.

Before he even fully realized his anger, Sam was throwing the phone back at Dean's chest. "Seriously?" he snarled, glaring at Dean as he quickly caught the phone.

"Sam."

That's all Dean could say. Over and over again, all he could say was his name. He couldn't deny it and he couldn't argue his stance because he knew just how stupid he was being. That didn't stop him from doing exactly what Sam told him not to do though. Dean stopped respecting his wishes altogether, and he had a feeling it'd stay that way until he opened up about everything.

He was so ticked up that he stood right back up and started walking out. Again, he heard Dean stupidly call his name to try and get him to come back.

"Not interested, Dean," Sam said over his shoulder.

Still, Dean was equally uninterested in letting him go. He stood up and walked out after him. "Would you just _listen_?" Dean snapped.

"I'm going for a walk."

"No, you're not." Dean grabbed onto Sam's shoulder and easily spun him around, partly due to his natural strength and Sam not being back to 100%. "You got a dementor on your tail, and if it corners you while you're alone-"

"Who says the dementor is after me?"

"What?"

Sam took in a breath as he tried to calm himself. If he said this wrong, it was going to sound like the biggest jerk on the planet. And anyway, Dean didn't deserve any anger for what he was about to bring up. "I'm not the only person who went through something terrible." Obviously he was talking about the fact that Dean had to kill him. Sam just walked right into his room and stood there for Dean to stab him. "And I know, it's completely my fault that you had to go through that and I'm sorry…" He briefly closed his eyes, emotions of sympathy and compassion pushing away his anger. "I'm _really _sorry about that…But the dementor might be after you. How well are you coping with all this?" He met Dean's eyes again and was relieved to see that Dean wasn't going to punch him for bringing it up.

"Not well," Dean said after a few moments. Of course he wasn't; he killed his brother. "But Sam, I _know _what I went through. And yeah it was the worst thing I ever experienced, but I don't think it's as bad as what you went through."

"We're not doing this, Dean. We're not comparing our trauma and playing the game of 'who suffered more.' We both got sent through the ringer. And I want to start healing from it—I do."

"Then _talk _to me," Dean pleaded again. "It's the only way."

_I know it is, _Sam finally admitted to himself. Keeping it to himself was only making it worse. He wanted to get the weight off his chest and tell Dean everything, but it would hurt both of them.

"…I will tell you," Sam said slowly. "…After we take care of this case." But they were going to do it with more people now because of that phone call. He was still really angry about it, but there was no stopping it now. "When's everyone coming back?"

"They're not."

Sam stared blankly at Dean while he continued.

"Charlie called _me, _Sam," Dean said. "She was giving an update and asking how things were here. I told her they were fine."

Not only did Dean not call her, but he lied to her about things being fine. She didn't know that there was a dementor around the bunker or anything. "…Why'd you look so guilty, then?" Sam asked in confusion. "And why did you lie?"

"You think I'm confident in that choice?" Dean responded. "Dude, you're still weak on your feet and extremely on edge. I had half a mind to call her back and tell her what was up."

"But you didn't. Why?" Sam repeated.

Dean stared at him for a long time, trying to piece together his thoughts. They reached Sam and hit him right in the heart. "Because," Dean finally began, "we're hunters and we can handle it. And you're my brother and I trust you when you say you're up for this."

One minute Dean was full of trust, but the next, he was doubting. _And for good reason, _Sam realized. _I just blew up at him for nothing. _"Thanks for that," Sam said quietly. His brother's trust…that was something he couldn't take advantage of anymore. Not after all the crap they went through whenever they kept secrets.

"So," Dean lifted a thumb and jabbed it back towards the library. "What do you say we get back to finding our 'patronous charm?'" It was Dean's attempt at peace making, even though he wasn't the one who blew up and caused the whole thing. Even now, he was looking out for Sam and trying to raise him back up.

He wasn't going to take it for granted. "You got it."

*…*…*…*…*…*

**One thing that I love about the Supernatural universe is that basically anything is possible, including the fact that dementors may be real. Don't worry, this isn't going to turn into a crossover story with Harry or the gang; just the monsters and a little bit of lore that goes along with them. **

**Like I said last update, new chapters are going to be coming more slowly at this point. Life's insanely busy and as much as I want to write, I just can't. But on the upside, I WILL keep working on my Supernatural stories to completion. **

**So, until next time…**

**Peanut**


	14. Chapter 14: Overcome

Chapter Fourteen: Overcome

"So, get this."

At Sam's opening comment, Dean walked over and stood behind his big little brother. Sam sat in the same seat as before, scouring through resources on his computer while Dean researched other warding spells that could possibly keep the dementor away. It was hard to believe that was what it really was—a dementor. He liked _Harry Potter _as much as the next person, but who would will a dementor into existence? Not him. Certainly not Sammy.

"There are actually a ton of stories online about dementors and where they like to hang out," Sam said, glancing at Dean before returning his gaze to the laptop. "Alcatraz prison's really the only place listed—probably because it's the nonwizard form of Azkaban."

"Okay…So what's one doing here?"

"Down here." He pointed at the computer, reading it off word for word. "'While dementors are most known for haunting that prison and sucking the happiness away from America's worst criminals, they sometimes escape due to a person's extensive suffering.' Down further it says that the call can be so strong that they can make it all the way across the country. And they're so ridiculously strong that they're not weakened by the trip at all."

"We already figured why they were here." Dean gave a pointed stare at Sam, but then elected to continue. "So how do we kill 'em?"

"Dementors are immortal. They can only be shielded against and warded off, not killed."

"So…"

"Two ways. First one I'm guessing is made up." He cleared his throat and began to read. "'Find a witch or wizard to cast a patronous spell to cast off the dementor while it is in your presence and it will never bother you again.'"

"Not like we have many witch or wizard friends on our side anyway," Dean commented. More like "none," but that didn't matter. "Second way?"

Dean didn't like the way Sam clammed up at that question. Not only did he not respond, but his entire posture changed. His shoulders folded in and so did his legs, as if he were closing himself up and making himself seem smaller. Like a child does whenever they're scared and afraid.

"Let me guess," Dean suggested quietly, "you have to open up."

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, hushed. "That's the only way. Do it right in front of the dementor and it'll never come after me again."

_Well, at least he's finally able to admit that he's the one it's after, _Dean thought on a more optimistic note. Earlier Sam was trying to convince him it could be after Dean, but he doubted it. Yeah, he suffered when he killed Sam. It broke his heart and still was breaking him, but he saw Sam's eyes. Sam was suffering on a whole different level of heartache.

"Don't worry," Dean said, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder. "This'll take care of it."

"I know it will," Sam responded, much to Dean's surprise. "But…I'm not ready to bring it up again. It…broke me, Dean."

"I know, Sammy." _And that's why you gotta get it out. _He would just stay broken if you kept it all bottled inside. He knew Sam: he encouraged other people to talk but kept his own issues to himself. This would at least force him to get it out in the open. It'd be good for him.

Or so he thought.

*…*…*…*…*…*

Sam said he wasn't ready for the dementor and that he wasn't ready to spill his heart. He had imagined that as soon as he said that, the dementor would appear and force him into it. In a way, it would have been a blessing. He was waiting in agony now for the dementor to appear.

He and Dean had both been waiting for fourteen hours.

They pulled an all nighter. Or at least, they tried to. Every once in a while, one of them would crash and the other person would be diligent and stay awake. They weren't going to repeat the first time the dementor came for them when they were both asleep.

At that moment, both of them were awake, but groggy. It was 9:45 in the morning and they were both ready to pass out at the library table. They both sat there because it was less tempting to fall asleep in one of those chairs. The couch, however old it was, was amazing compared to the hard wooden chairs.

Sam stood up, stretching out his arms. "I'm going to make some coffee," he said. "You want some?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted.

_Yeah. Of course. _Sam took one step away from the table before he heard Dean's chair scrape against the floor as he forced himself up. He didn't even bother turning around to face him. He saw the same thing that Dean did.

There it was. Right in front of him. Staring at him with eyes that were hidden beneath the shadow of its hood. The dementor. As soon as the thing entered the room, Sam felt the air drop down to frigid temperatures. His and Dean's breath turned into mist in front of their lips as their bodies fought the urge to shiver. Worse than the physical though, they were both trying desperately not to let the dementor affect their emotions.

Sam, in his mind, realized that it was impossible not to be swayed by the chilling stare.

Every bad memory—every sad experience he ever had—flashed before his eyes. His legs wanted to collapse underneath him, but they didn't. Somehow, he managed to lock his knees and stare at the monster. That was both a blessing and a curse, because while he wasn't falling down and fainting at the sight of it, he knew that if he tried to take one step back, he truly would collapse.

"Sam," Dean's quiet voice said from behind him. Sam already knew what he was telling him to do: open up. Before either of them fainted.

Foolishly, Sam took his eyes off the dementor and looked at Dean. He was still upright, but leaning both hands on the long table for balance. Judging by his pale face and fragile stance, he was fighting against the dementor's presence too.

"Sam!" Dean was scolding him this time, urging him to look at the enemy. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at the monster.

Dean was right.

But man…where to start?

"I died!" Sam blurted to the dementor. "I died and I thought somehow it would be easy and that I wouldn't have to suffer to get back but I was wrong!"

Once he was going, the words kept pouring out. His voice became more hoarse and impassioned with every word that he spoke, sincerity, fear, and pain coming through every syllable.

"It's stupid," he continued at the monster. "I should have known nothing was easy. I should have known there was more to it than that. But I was stupid and I was wrong and I…" He swallowed hard, realizing Dean was listening to every single word. "I went through hell. I had to see so many loved ones and say bye to them. I lost Jess all over again. And then the veil…" The thought of the veil made him even colder than he already was.

"I had to relive my worst memories like it was the first time living through them. Times where I was lost and scared. Hunts that scared the crap out of me. Friend dying. _Dean _dying. Hell. Possession. Torture. I went through it all like it was the first time and had to snap myself out of it every single time to make it back here."

With every single memory he recounted, the weight on his chest began to lift. Logically, it should have been tearing him down, but it was actually working to heal him. The dementor stood further away, unmoving. Losing power.

"And you know what else?" he snapped as tears formed in his eyes. "I'm not even sure I'm really back. I don't know if I'm really here or if I'm stuck in some memory inside the veil." This whole thing was too painful. It was like he was reliving his hallucinations with Lucifer, not knowing if the reality he was in was true or if he was under some new kind of torture. For all he knew, that was what this moment was. Though he was focused on the stare-down with the dementor, he couldn't help but think of Dean behind him, who was hearing every single word he was saying.

The idea that Dean was hearing this struggle—seeing him go through doubting reality _again_ was enough to make his legs shake. His knees buckled in and out of their locked positions and he fought with all his might to just stand.

He subconsciously stuck his thumb into the palm of his hand, where he used to have a scar. That scar had been healed by Cas a long time ago, and in a way, he wished he still had that hideous scar. It was what kept him grounded for so long. He wondered: what exactly would keep him grounded?

Fierce determination. That was what.

"I can't stand to think that way, though," Sam continued shakily. "I **have** to believe that I made it back. True or not I have to believe that I'm back and that the pain is over." _No, wait, that's hardly true…_ "That's wrong. It's not even close to being over. …I thought it'd be easy. I thought I'd die, go to heaven, walk out the door and right back into my body. I was so stupid it's laughable. But you know what…? I **fought **through **all **that. I fought to make it back here. And I didn't come back here to let **you** take me away again." The dementor hissed but otherwise remained passive.

"GET OUT," Sam ordered. "I'm alive! I'm not letting you take my life or my heart. Not after all this. So you can GO BACK TO ALCATRAZ."

The room seemed brighter somehow in that moment. A white light surrounded the dark robe of the dementor and when it was gone, the monster disappeared with it. The whole room began to warm up and the final burden on his chest lifted.

Sam lifted a hand to his chest, gasping for breath. It worked. The dementor was gone and he finally had everything out in the open.

But even with the dementor gone, his weakness lingered. He made the mistake of unlocking one of his knees. He topped to the ground, barely able to move his body so he landed on his side and not his face. Behind him, he heard Dean finally topple to the ground too.

_Dean, _Sam mouthed only to have no sound come out. _Crap. _Not only was the strength in his legs gone, but so was his voice. His vision began to cloud as he heard Dean's faint voice from behind him.

"_Sammy. Sam. You did it, Sammy. You..."_

That was the last thing he heard before he was completely gone.

*…*…*…*…*

Sam was familiar with darkness. Not just in a metaphorical kind of way. The job was "dark"—full of fear and danger and anxiety. What Sam was thinking of and experiencing was literal darkness that surrounded and threatened to smother him.

These days, he was used to it. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt like he was in the veil. Pitch black surrounded him in the gaps between memories and he always waited for that darkness to go away, for his memory to be cleaned, and for him to experience an old horror like it was brand new.

Even at that moment, he was waiting. He braced himself for an old memory that would turn into a new horror. What was the last thing he experienced, again? Something absurd—some monster from Harry Potter attacked the bunker. When did that happen, exactly?

Suddenly, Sam wasn't alone in the darkness. Sam stumbled back a step when his eyes landed on a figure right in front of him. It was a friend, at least. His tan coat stood out in contrast to the blackness.

"Cas?" Sam automatically uttered.

"Sam," he greeted.

_Okay. This is the part where a new memory starts up. I know I need to keep my mind focused so I get out of here sooner. I gotta get back…_

"You passed out after facing the dementor, Sam. It's time to wake up."

_This memory takes place right after the last one, I guess. Wait…did I even escape the last one? _Sam's eyes widened as he took another step back in confusion. He was consciously thinking about escaping the memory and recalling what came next, but he couldn't think of it! That was the first time that he was at a loss like this.

"We're inside your mind," Castiel clarified. "So I do have some insight into what you're thinking and feeling. You believe you're in the veil."

"Well, yeah." Sam cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together. "Things always go black in the gaps. I'm just waiting for the next memory to start."

"If you continue waiting, I wonder if you'll ever awaken," Castiel said. "You need to realize that you made it back—"

"How can I possibly believe that?" Sam laughed abruptly, hopelessly. "Do you realize how absurd this all is? That I actually thought dying and coming back to life would be so easy? I was stupid…"

"Stupid to believe it'd be easy," Cas acknowledged. "But Sam—you are not a hopeless person. You know your own strength and your abilities. You've survived Hell, in Lucifer's cage. You know you can overcome the veil. You **did** overcome it."

"You sure about that, buddy?" a new voice said.

In that instant, Sam felt a chill that made him feel like his spine was frozen. But as scared as he was of the voice, he was even more terrified when he turned around and saw the voice's owner.

"No. No no no…" Sam uttered in horror.

"Hiya Bunk Buddy," Lucifer said in his dark "friendly" tone. "You didn't really think you escape me, did you?"

_I did. I did! _He remembered that bit. His memories of Hell were still blurry on some days, not because of a wall, but because Cas took on many of those along with his insanity. It didn't matter. Dean dealt with Death and got his soul out of Hell. He was OUT.

If there was one thing Sam believed in, it was Dean.

"Seriously, Sam? You really think Dean can save you from my cage? I know you idolize your brother but you gotta stop being so naïve, Sammy. Dean can't save you from everything."

_He's right, _Sam realized He was right. Dean couldn't save him from everything. Dean couldn't save him from Yellow Eyes. He couldn't save him when he was whisked away by demons and killed by Jake. He died…

_And I came back. He did save me from dying forever. _

"Alright Sammy, tell you what," Lucifer said. "You wanna keep arguing back and forth in your grapefruit you can. But I know your every thought and can counter it. You think Dean saved you from death? Fine. But at what cost? You think he can spring you and I can't hop along."

For the first time since the argument started, Sam's first inclination was to speak. "W-what…?"

"_If _he got you out of the cage—and that's a big "if"…How'd he do it without springing me too? Death is only so powerful. So I made it out with you. My free ride out of Hell."

"No…"

"Sam, ignore him!" Cas's voice suddenly returned, from right over his shoulder. Sam desperately looked over his shoulder to his friend and stared at him with wide eyes. "This is in your head. The Lucifer that you see isn't real. He's only a figment of your imagination."

"…It hasn't been this vivid in years," Sam muttered to Cas. Right after Hell, he used to have hallucinations and dreams all the time where that phony Lucifer was talking to him. It felt so real, just like this.

"The veil has summoned old memories and feelings. Your recent terror is what's fueling this—nothing more."

_I want to believe that. So desperately! _But when he looked over his left shoulder once more, Lucifer was still standing there, waving at him like an excited teenage girl. He acted so casual for someone who was responsible for so much torture and heartache.

"You escaped him. The only thing left to torment you is your memory, and you have control over that." Cas set a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Believe in your power and your brother's power. You **are **alive. You're free."

Lucifer spoke. "Sammy."

"Sam," Cas said again.

"Sammy!"

"Just shut up!" Sam snapped. He looked over at Lucifer, eyebrows furrowed in fury and determination. "You're…not real. I beat you. I made it out so don't you _dare_ come back to haunt me now!"

"You say that now, but I know you'll welcome me back soon. That's what happened last time, right? Dean left you all alone and you finally let me back in."

If Sam had his gun, he would have pulled it. He actually reached down to the center of his back and felt for a gun. Shockingly, when his hand came back to his front, he actually did have a gun. This was in his mind, so he shaped reality. And since he wanted to shoot Lucifer in the face, he made it a possibility.

His finger rested on the trigger as he pulled it up and leveled it with both hands. "I'm not going through that again," Sam said through his teeth. "I'm not."

Lucifer stared in the eye, unflinching. Unalarmed by the gun or by Sam's denials. "See you soon, buddy."

The sound of the bullet blasted through the nothingness and broke through the reality that imprisoned Sam.

Before he could see the bullet land in Lucifer's forehead, his whole world changed.

Back in reality, Sam suddenly bolted upright in bed with a startled gasp. His eyes opened wide as he took in the whole world. Finally there was a light for him to see. The library of the bunker was brightly lit. And out of the corner of his eye, he could see four people staring at him.

"**Sam**!" Dean's voice automatically broke through.

Sam turned his head, still wide-eyed and alarmed. He truly made it out of the veil. Cas was right…And he was right beside where his head had been. However he got through to him didn't matter though. If it wasn't for Cas, he wouldn't have made it back out. He would have been stuck there, recreating his own nightmares. Recreating **Lucifer**…

As his body began to shake, Sam reached for the blanket that either, Dean, Charlie, Cas, or Jody spread out over him after they somehow carried him over to the couch. He tried to be calm, but it was hard when he was so cold and so shaken by the idea of what he almost suffered through all over again.

"Here's some chocolate," Charlie offered, holding out a plate of chocolate cake to him. Sam continued to grip the blanket at chest level. It took him a few seconds to realize that his best course of action was to stand the cold for a few moments, eat the chocolate, and get better. Slowly, hesitantly, he released the blanket and accepted the plate. It was hard to eat while everyone was staring at him. Harder still because his hand kept shaking.

Still, he managed to grip his fork and get a bite of cake in his mouth. That single bit of chocolate was enough to help him recover. It wasn't as quick as last time, and he wondered if that was because he was eating more slowly or because he went through something worse this time.

It didn't matter. He eventually turned himself on the couch, put his feet on the ground, and put the plate on the cushion next to him. Even while avoiding all their gazes, he could tell that they were staring at him with more than just worry. It was pity.

"You all know, don't you?" Sam asked quietly without looking up.

"I had to tell 'em," Dean said just as softly. "Sorry, Sammy."

He nodded slightly and stared at his hands in his lap. So that was it then. He couldn't shrug this off and say that he was okay and that everything was fine, because they knew otherwise. The only thing that wasn't public knowledge was that interaction he just had with Cas and Lucifer in his head. He looked up at Cas, unsure if he would open his mouth and spill the beans or not.

Of course, it was that very gaze that opened the door for Cas to bring it up.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said to Sam, "does that expression mean you want me to share what was occurring in your head?"

"No," Sam responded in his hushed voice. Anything but that. But…he kept it bottled up before and it brought a dementor to him. Keeping this to himself wasn't going to do him any good either. "…I'll say it." He avoided their gazes once more and elected to stare at Dean's chest instead. Whenever he was upset as a kid, Dean always pulled him into him in a bear hug. Because Sam used to be such a shrimp, his face always wound up right in the middle of Dean's torso. Those hugs always enveloped him and made the rest of the world disappear for just a few minutes.

Oh, how he wished this pain would disappear and something else would take its place.

"It's going to take me a while to get over the veil," Sam began. "In my head, I saw….Lucifer. A fake Lucifer—I get that he wasn't real and he's still locked in the cage." _Maybe. _"But the veil just brought up my worst moments and I'm not going to be able to drop that easily." Even just talking about it, he could feel all those emotions rising up again. But he didn't want to cry and worry everyone even worse than they already were. Despite him knowing the words wouldn't reassure anyone, he spoke them anyway. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm-"

In the middle of his lies, Charlie sat down on the couch next to him. She had a much smaller from than Sam; everyone was small compared to him. But the side-hug she gave him was so warm and strong that it made Sam feel small. Not the kind of small that went along with feeling insignificant; this made him feel more childlike and less like a man who had had the weight of the world on his shoulders a hundred times over. Even when he put his arm over her shoulders and felt the difference in size, it still felt like she was the one holding him and telling him it wasn't all on him anymore.

And then on the other side of him, Dean moved the plate of cake and sat down right beside him. Dean hardly ever gave him an embrace, especially not with other people around. What he did then was enough: he put a hand on his little brother's shoulder and gripped it tight. It wasn't the first time Dean did that, and it certainly wasn't the last. It was that hand that often guided him. Kept him grounded. Reminded him of the reality that he wasn't alone in this world.

That hand wasn't the only reminder, though. Jody sat down on the other side of Charlie and held onto Sam's hand that was on Charlie's shoulder. Cas—socially awkward as he could be, sat down on a chair right just a few feet in front of him. It was enough for him; it wasn't a physical touch, but it was a reminder that Cas was there. Cas changed a lot over the past few years, but his steadfastness did not. He was a true friend.

Sam shut his eyes and felt a few tears silently slide down his cheeks.

He wasn't okay, but that was okay.

He wasn't alone.

*…*…*…*…*

**Author: Phew, this chapter was tough to write. Poor Sam has a lot to cope with after the veil. But his healing's already begun thanks to his extended family. I wish we would see more family themes in the show with Cas, Jody, and Charlie (though the latter unfortunately can't happen anymore), but whatever. This season's AMAZING so far! And "Baby" is now one of my all-time favorite episodes. What do you guys think of the new season? **

**Getting back to the story, things are truly wrapping up at this point. This story was truly a pleasure to write and a part of me does not want to let it go. SO if you see any plot holes that desperately need to be wrapped up or you have ideas in general, drop me a message and I may pick it up. **

**Till next time, **

**Peanut**


	15. Chapter 15: Looking Forward

Chapter Fifteen: Looking Forward

"Good morning, Sam."

Sam disregarded the greeting and sat down at the kitchen table. He had been back on earth for eleven days in total now, though in some ways, it felt like an eternity. There were a few reasons behind that, with one of them being that he hadn't left the bunker since then. It was unusual for him to be cooped up in one place for so long.

And it was also unusual for him and Dean to have guests for that long; ever since he returned, Charlie, Jody, and Cas stayed with them in the bunker. There were plenty of bedrooms to spare for all of them. Not that Cas needed one, of course. He simply retreated to a room at night because he knew that was the human custom. One funny thing about Cas, though, was that he was becoming addicted to _Law and Order SVU _because it was on Netflix. How did he know what Netflix was, and how did he get addicted? That was quite the story…

Sam wasn't sleeping since he came back. The most accurate term for what he did was "pass out," because he couldn't get enough peace to rest decently at night. Instead of sleeping, he often turned on his bedroom television and switched on Netflix. One night, Cas was concerned because he heard talking in the bunker, so he came to check it out.

That night they binge-watched four hours of SVU before Sam finally passed out.

The two of them turned that into a nightly habit; Sam wasn't sleeping and neither was Cas, so why bother spending the darkest hours of the day alone and staring blankly at the walls?

After last night's binge watch, Sam managed to get almost three hours of sleep. That was more than he got any other night, so that itself was comforting. He was the only person out for breakfast too. Simple as his milk and cereal was, he was happy just to be able to eat and find sustenance, because that meant he was alive.

"Sam, can you pass the cornflakes? I'm starving over here."

He put the box on the table beside him, picked up his spoon, and began eating. The food was pretty crunchy too—perfect to drown out the noise in his head. That noise wasn't just anything, though, and it didn't just make itself present in a nagging headache.

Satan sat to his left and grabbed the box. He reached his arm into the box and pulled out a handful, munching loudly on the breakfast food.

"I can see those wheels turning in your head," Lucifer said. "You didn't think you were bad enough to actually give me the power to move stuff physically, but guess what, Sammy? You're completely at my mercy again. I may not be real but I might as well be."

Sam reached over to his right and grasped the box that Lucifer moved. It wasn't there; it was at his left, because it never moved in the first place. Blushing angrily, he grabbed it and began to read the ingredients while he continued eating his breakfast.

"Aren't you glad nobody saw that? That would have been embarrassing. Can you imagine what Dean would have said? The look he would have given you? He's already freaked out enough by you and your screwed-up head."

Sam chewed more loudly.

"And it's only going to get worse. Who cares that the veil triggered all this? I've never really left your grapefruit, and I never will. I'll always come back to give you a little more torture."

Images of Hell and the veil flashed before his eyes. He wasn't sure which was worse, to be honest. Hell was—well, Hell. But the veil was his life. It was real in a way that was more personal and intimate.

Either way, what his hallucination was doing now wasn't even close to either experience. Sam snorted, smiling faintly as he regained his confidence. Torture? His hallucination threatened _torture? _Nothing could compare to what he was already through. Lucifer had no power over him now—

The stove suddenly exploded into flames with a fireball eruption. Sam practically jumped out of his seat, hearing its legs scrape against the floor as it quickly adjusted underneath him to hold the weight. His hand, which had been grasping the box, shot the box halfway across the room. As the cereal spilled out onto the floor, he realized that it was all a sham. There was no fire and there certainly wasn't an explosion. Now there was just a mess caused by him and an explanation he'd have to give.

He thought that maybe if he cleaned up quickly enough, nobody would notice his slip up. But of course, he was only about halfway through, kneeling on the ground scooping up corn flakes, when Dean entered the room.

"Dude," Dean started, standing with an arched brow and skepticism lacing his tone. "What'd you do?"

"…Tossed the cereal at Lucifer," Sam muttered. He was surprised with himself; last time the hallucination was around, he was hardly open about it. He was all for other people sharing their emotions, but when it came to his own, he kept them to himself. He didn't want to burden other people with his problems, and he certainly didn't want to be burdened with his own issues. All he wanted was to help others and not need help himself.

With the hallucinations and sleepless nights, he couldn't do that. He couldn't even muster the strength to lie to Dean about this one. So he wondered, in that brief moment, what Dean was going to do with his unrestrained honesty.

Dean knelt down with him and began to pick up the crumbs. "Did you hit him?"

He recalled where the box went flying and how it happened to fly towards the target he wasn't even consciously aiming for. The face he had when the box went right through him and showed his transparency…"Right in the face," Sam said proudly.

"That really hurt my feelings, you know that, Sam?" Lucifer said from his new seat at the table.

"That's my boy," Dean smiled faintly, ignorant of Sam's other conversation. "But next time, close the box first, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll try to remember that." Sam picked up the last bit, though there were still some microscopic crumbs on the floor. He left it alone and rose to his feet and threw out the pieces he held. Dean did the same, also bringing the box with him and setting it on the nearby counter.

Before Sam could wonder what was going to happen next, Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "How you holding up, little brother?"

"You're practically asking for a chick flick moment, jerk," Sam commented automatically. Okay, so maybe the honest thing would take some time, since it was a knee jerk reaction of his to brush everything off.

Dean decided to stick to his guns and prod a little bit further. "Well?"

Sam turned serious as he washed his hands in the sink. "I'm not…good. He's almost always there, and when he's not, I just feel…anxious. I'm not sleeping at night-"

"Yeah, Jody told me she walked past your room a couple nights ago and you were watching TV at 3:00."

_What was Jody doing up that early, anyway? _ "With Cas," Sam added. "Since he doesn't sleep."

"Guess that would make him the perfect bingeing buddy," Dean conceded. "But you still gotta find some way to sleep."

"I'm getting there," he said. When Dean gave him a skeptical look, Sam finished washing his hands and turned directly towards him. "I am, really. I got three hours last night. That's more than any other."

"Yeah, you're the picture of health," Dean said sarcastically. "Look, Sam, I hate to suggest this, but do you need some kind of…therapy? Medication? Because you gotta sleep somehow. We can't go down the same road we did last time."

Even without Dean being specific, Sam knew what he meant. Last time, he drove himself to utter exhaustion, got hit by a car, and was forced into a psych ward. He would have died there if it wasn't for Cas.

"I think it's different from then," Sam said slowly. "I'm already getting better. And anyway-" He glanced down at his feet, clearing his throat as he decided to leave that sentence hanging in the air.

Dean snatched it after a few moments. "What?"

"It's stupid, but going to Heaven and coming back reminded me of how many people I have standing behind me. I lost sight of that last time, but now that I see it…I'm good. Good enough to make it back to normal someday."

His elder brother nodded, also looking down towards the ground before he looked back up at Sam. "Let me add one more thing to the list, then." He took his hand off Sam's shoulder and jerked it towards his room. "Grab a duffle and pack some clothes. Meet me at the impala."

Sam wasn't sure what was going on, but he nodded and followed the instruction. It was easy to get in and out of his room, since Jody and Charlie were both asleep and Cas was binge-watching TV elsewhere while he thought Sam slept.

Within ten minutes, Sam was at the impala with his bag in hand. He and Dean packed it with cold beers and then they were gone, leaving a short note on the kitchen table for their bunkmates:

_Sam and I are out. Be back in a few days. _

_-Dean_

*….*…*…*…*…*

It was night and Dean didn't pull over to any shady motels. They hadn't done much talking in the past day of driving. Dean had originally been so adamant that Sam open up about his experiences, but now that he did, Dean mercifully gave him space.

The reason for the road trip wasn't to give them privacy for conversations. It was to give Sam a sense of what was important, and remind him of the home that he'd always have. Not just the impala, but Dean too. The two of them could cross the country a hundred times over, defeat dozens of monsters, and face death every day. Their job had those constants and guarantees.

But Sam's life had more constants than that, and they didn't try to kill him. He had Dean, and he always would have him there to support him, get him back to a place of health and sanity, and lead him forward. Sam was an independent person who didn't necessarily like following people, but if it was Dean and his light, he'd gladly follow.

Dean pulled the impala into an empty field in the middle of nowhere. He turned off the car, slipped out of the driver's seat, and opened the door to the back. Sam, knowing his role, stepped out and switched to sitting on the hood of the car. Within seconds, Dean was there with a spare beer in his hand. Sam hardly even glanced at it as he opened it up and stared at the sky.

This wasn't the first night that he and Dean pulled off somewhere, sat outside, and stared up at the sky instead of crashing at a dingy motel. One thing was for sure: no motel could beat this view, with the Milky Way lighting the sky and sparkling in their eyes like the hope of a new day.

There was a lot to hope for. The Mark was gone, Sam was back, and for once nobody died in their fight. Yeah, the fact that Sam died still burdened them, but he was back now, and it was because he was back that they could cope with it and move on.

Of course, there were some things to be nervous about. Sam knew in the back of his mind that the angels weren't happy that he and Cas stole Metatron out of jail and ended up killing him. Their fury was probably even worse since they had Sam in Heaven after that and he escaped their clutches. Sam was sure there would be consequences for all that; even though he was hallucinating Lucifer, he knew that was a side effect and not a punishment for his actions.

Someday, a great fight would be fought with Heaven because of all the little wars and fights the Winchesters waged against it over the past few years. But that was a worry for another day.

That night, there was complete silence. Lucifer hadn't shown up since they entered the impala and he wasn't there now. No angels crashed down on them and Heaven's fire didn't smite them.

They weren't okay. It'd be foolish to say that they were. But, in the very least, they could say that they were getting there.

And that was enough.

*…*…*…*…*…*

**Thank you very much for following the story. It was a blast to write, and the fact that it's at an end is bittersweet. I obviously left it very open for a sequel, but right now, I don't have plans to continue the story. Too much on the plate and all that jazz. **

**If you like my writing in general, check out my other stuff. I'm hoping to publish some Supernatural oneshots pretty soon (one of which is Christmas themed!) If you have any ideas for oneshots, send 'em to me—I might take it up. **

**Once more, thank you so much for reading. I'm humbled by the response this story got and am so glad that you all made it to the final chapter. **

**Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and…yeah. **

**Peanut **


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